


Estranged

by bendthekneejon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Art, Chefs, Dany is married to Daario but it’s a loveless marriage, Dany is the main character, F/M, Keep in mind that i’m a romantic lol, Painting, R+L does not equal J, Reflections and musings on love, So i’m not tagging it as dany/daario but ofc you are warned here anyway, affair, painter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 18:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 114,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendthekneejon/pseuds/bendthekneejon
Summary: Affair - Modern AUDany and Jon had been together for years. However, work opportunities in different parts of Westeros forced them to break up. The story sets off when they run into each other a decade later.A story that questions the conventional views of marriage, motherhood, and love.Dany is a painter here, and multiple famous paintings accompany the story to complement the text.





	1. Bound

**Author's Note:**

> After writing To Be Alone With You, a story about a healthy relationship, I decided to write another fic about love but in a different way. Here, we'll explore when a dynamic between two people is love and when it is mere attachment by comparing a toxic and a healthy relationship. It will be shorter than TBAWY but more angsty :D
> 
> CW: Dany is in an abusive relationship with Daario. It will be mostly verbal and emotional abuse, though. Many abusers aren’t completely ‘evil’ or straight-up bullies all the time, they don’t necessarily beat up their partner, either. They have good and bad moments, which make the victim wonder if they’re only having a ‘bad day’.
> 
> PS: Miya, thanks for offering to help the first time! I didn't know how to contact you but I hope we can reconnect in the comment section!

[Credits for the painting](http://www.mariarigoutsou.de/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/The-sea-Oil-on-canvas-2006-100x100cm-A1.jpg)

* * *

Daenerys had moved on. Or so she’d thought.

She was pushing the shopping cart along the aisle, her two children by her side, when she heard a husky voice say, “Dany.”

It was a voice she knew. It reminded her of someone, but… could it be?

She turned her head. It was him, with slightly shorter hair and beard. His smile pushed up his cheekbones and squinted his eyes, just like she remembered it used to do. She had thought she would never see him again, much less in this city. It took her a while to realize her mouth was agape with no words coming out of it.

She was only able to say, “_Jon_,” a word her lips hadn’t pronounced in a long time.

“Ho-how are you?” he asked.

“I…I-I’m good I-” she blinked repeatedly. “These are Visenya and Daemon. Kids, this is an old friend of mine, Jon.”

“Hi,” Jon smiled at them. “How do you do?”

Clueless about what he meant to their mother, they only replied with a “Good, thank you,” in the same bored tone they greeted any acquaintance of their parents. 

“It’s so good to see you,” she smiled.

She couldn’t identify which of the feelings tangled in her body was the predominant one: joy to see Jon again, curiosity to know if he was also married, confusion about what was he doing in the city, and sadness…maybe they could have had a life together, after all.

“My god.” She let out a laugh of joy—the emotion that won over the others. “What are you doing in King’s Landing?”

“I live here now,” he replied. Her eyes widened. “I’m closer to the fish market, though, but I work not too far from here.”

Their gazes were nailed on one another and so were their smiles, but a whine from Daemon, her youngest child, disconnected them. “Mummy, can we go home?”

She turned to her children with her mouth parted open and back to Jon, who gave her a warm smile, letting her know it was okay. She did not want to go home, though. Not now.

“Wait a second, honey, I… I haven’t seen my friend in a while and wou-would like to catch up. Or…” she looked at Jon, “are you in a rush?”

“Not at all,” he replied right away.

“Can we go to the toy section then?” Visenya asked, holding the Minnie doll she always carried with her.

“Sure, love. Do you want to walk with us, Jon?” Dany asked him. He agreed and the children ran to the toy section. “Not so fast, guys!” Dany told them and they slowed down.

“They’re lovely,” Jon said as he and Dany walked at their pace behind them.

“Yes, they are,” she smiled, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “A bit crazy, though. Ho-how’s life treating you? Are you married? Do you also have children?”

He shook his head. She tried to hold back a tiny smile in relief. Had it been sensible to ask that question so quickly, though?

“And you…you’re married?” he asked in a tone that heightened at the end, she remembered he used it when he was nervous.

“I am,” she said. Jon nodded with a smile. She tried to figure out if he was hiding pain behind it. “Oh, Jon. I’m so happy to see you.”

She meant it. If only he knew the strength with which she was holding herself back from hugging him!

“Me too,” he smiled. “And I’m glad you’re alright… that you’re happy.”

Yet despite the wave of questions flooding her mind, she was only able to say, “So, what are you buying?” while pointing at his basket.

“Just some vegetables—this supermarket often has fresh ones—shrimps, deodorant… ‘cause it’s time for a new one…” They both chuckled. “Damn, it’s the first time I’ve seen you in years and I’m out of deodorant. Please, try not to smell me from up close.”

She laughed. “It’s alright.” As if she hadn’t smelled him without deodorant when they lived together.

She couldn’t push her grin down, as if two strings were pulling up the sides of her lips. If Daario saw her this smiley with another man, he would undoubtedly make a scene later. “So, what are you working in?”

“I’m the sous-chef in a seafood restaurant. _Blue Fish_, do you know it?”

“I haven’t been there, but I’ve heard it’s great! What happened to the one in White Harbor?”

“It’s still alive and in good hands—Sam’s the Head Chef Now.”

“And, how… how long ago did you arrive at the capital?”

“Four years ago.”

“_Four?!_” She inadvertently raised her voice too loudly.

“Yes. Been here for a while. I’m happy I finally got to see you.” He gave her a small smile. “Enough about me, though! What have you been up to? Are your paintings in museums?”

She laughed nervously. “They’re not… I only paint every once in a while now. And I don’t sell them anyway, so...” she trailed off.

“What?” He frowned in confusion. “Why?”

_My husband makes a scene when I try to work,_ she wanted to reply, but instead, only said: “I don’t have the time for it now. Two kids, you know.” And their ages, five and seven, still required much of her time.

Daemon and Visenya came back, begging her to buy them a bunch of toys. Dany refused, they asked for toys every time they went shopping. With her children next to them, though, she stopped talking about her and Jon's past, not to give away anything to them.

Before leaving, Jon told her, “Hey, would you like to keep in touch? To catch up, see how we’re doing. I… didn’t think I’d see you again.”

She nodded right away, before he even finished talking. They took their phones out and exchanged numbers.

“Let’s keep in touch, please,” she said, looking into his eyes. “Really.”

And with a nod and a small smile, their gazes broke painfully—as if she were losing him again for another decade—and each of them parted their ways.

On the way home, Daemon was talking about the last Spiderman movie. Dany only replied _“that’s so cool,”_ or _“that’s great, love.” _She was afraid her voice would break if she said more than three words together. The lump in her throat, the pressure in her chest, and the heat in her eyes were threatening to burst any second.

When she parked the car in their garage, she told the kids to go into the house. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

“Do you want us to help you carry the groceries into the house, mummy?” Daemon asked.

“No, no, thank you, love,” she said, desperately wanting to be left alone. “I gotta… fix something from the… gear lever, it’s acting weird. You guys just go—” She stopped just in time before her voice broke.

The kids left the car, and once she was alone in the garage, she placed her arms over the steering wheel and allowed herself to cry.

Jon and Dany used to live together in White Harbor. Dany studied painting and Jon, engineering. Yet he loved to cook. He used to stay up at night cooking, mixing different ingredients and setting them up on the dish in a way that looked like a work of art. So, Dany had encouraged him to drop off engineering to study culinary arts.

“I don’t want you to be unhappy for the rest of your life, doing something you hate.”

“I’d make less money.”

“Not necessarily. You’re talented. You can totally get to be the Head Chef of an excellent restaurant.”

“I’d _still_ make less money than if I were a successful engineer.”

“Well, if that gets to be the case, there’s no problem. Oh Jon, it keeps you up at night. I know this isn’t a life you want. Think about it well. Can money really buy your frustration of not being a Chef? Can it buy your frustration of dedicating your life to something you hate?”

Jon had been in his last year of engineering when he dropped out. ‘It feels like walking out of a prison,’ he had told her the last day he stepped a foot in the engineering faculty. Now, after all these years, it gladdened her to hear that he was still working on what he loved.

But working life isn’t easy for artists, especially in small cities. After finishing her studies and trying to find enough clients to buy her art, Dany was offered a scholarship for a master's degree in King’s Landing. This big, cosmopolitan city was promising: unlike the North, it had a market for artists, and had been Dany’s dream place to live in since she was a child: all the museums, all the street art, even houses were colorful! The dullness of the North could use some color, yet the demand for oil on canvas—her area of expertise—was almost inexistent there.

Jon, however, had started working as an assistant chef at an important seafood restaurant in White Harbor. She had insisted for him not to quit, getting a good job in his field wasn’t easy either. So, while she studied in King’s Landing, she looked for jobs for him everywhere: in the newspaper, driving around the city asking in restaurants if they needed more staff, but she only found a couple of cheap restaurants hiring cooks.

Yet when he decided he would go south anyway and work as a cook, his father fell ill. Jon was the only one of his siblings who lived in the North and had the closest relationship with Ned. He took care of him every day, regardless of how exhausting his job was. Dany wanted to go back to him, but knew it would cost her her career. A year went by. Dany started to get paid to paint walls of restaurants, cafés, or even hotels sometimes—it wasn’t much money, and it wasn’t oil on canvas, but it was enough to pay the rent.

When a former teacher of Jon opened a restaurant by the beach, he offered him to be the sous-chef—the Head Chef’s right hand. Dany, once again, insisted he shouldn’t miss that opportunity. He had a talent that had to be recognized. Jon took the job reluctantly—he wanted to leave to King’s Landing anyway, yet starting from scratch in that city would make it difficult to survive.

They kept on talking on the phone, but the more time passed, the more their relationship hinted a dead end. And the more they spoke, the more they suffered. _‘What are you gonna do at White Harbor? Keep on waiting tables? Live off Jon’s income?’ _her friends asked her every time she wanted to give up her passion, the arts, to go back to her boyfriend. She went to sleep tense every night in King’s Landing—which she had envisioned as the city of her dreams—wondering if it was worth leaving Jon.

“This was never the idea,” Dany told him on the phone. “I was supposed to come back after a year.”

“But you have much better opportunities in King’s Landing than here. You were the one who convinced me to drop out of my previous career, even if I would make less money as a chef—_if_ I ever became a chef. Stay and make the most of it. I don’t want to be an impediment for you to develop your passion. I’ll go to you.”

“But you would be abandoning your passion if you come here!” She tried in vain to hold back her tears. “If we’re together again…one of us will be unhappier, won't we?”

Jon stayed silent, but she could hear his cries at the other end of the line. She loved him so much that she didn’t want him to lose what he loved to be with her. She didn’t want to bind him. She wanted him to be happy.

And so, they decided it was time to move on and date other people.

The ghosts of all those headaches after long nights of crying haunted her back in the present moment. Those nights, alone, fearing she would never recover, loneliness was the monster under her bed. All that stress, all that fear of loneliness and of failure, even stole away her appetite. What if she never had a life again like the one she had just quit from? King’s Landing, a lively, colorful city, seemed deader and grayer than she could have ever imagined.

In the midst of it all, Dany met Daario at a friend’s house party. The need to get over Jon had pushed her to build an illusion around Daario: instead of getting to know him well, she had only focused on his virtues and good bits—his witty jokes, his intellect, his handsome smile and body—and mistook it for his whole character. They had a similar taste in music, love for eastern war dramas, and favorite ice cream flavor. Superficial similarities were often misleading: they carried empty promises, they disguised as a synonym of love and correspondence. Dany had invented Daario for her, she had idealized him. He seemed like the light at the end of the tunnel, like an armor from the stinging pain that Jon’s absence meant. She had thought she could save him from his sorrows and he could save her from hers—from the pressure of failing as an artist, from the fear of losing Jon, of losing love forever. Dany needed Daario, so she loved him.

_The Lovers by René Magritte_

Months went by and she and Jon occasionally still talked to each other, hoping they could meet again. Daario told her to delete Jon’s number. He didn't like it for her to talk that much with her ex. She refused blatantly at first. But after much thought, she realized it was for the best. There was no way to save their relationship, so keeping in touch only made them suffer. She called him one night to say goodbye and asked him to delete her number as well. The memory haunted her to this day. Plus, she had gotten pregnant, but decided to keep this detail from him.

In the car, she opened her eyes. Her cries didn’t hint to be near their end, but her children would probably come looking for her soon. She dried her tears and rushed to the bathroom to wash her face.

The kids were jumping on the trampoline when she came out of the bathroom. She finally took the groceries into the house and put them all away. The house had tall ceilings and glass doors that divided the living room from the garden, yet all that space made her feel even smaller and more alone. The white walls impersonated all the blank canvases that were stacked in a corner waiting for her. She went into the office: it was mostly where Daario worked or read when he was at home, but there was also space for her easel, a table, and her paintings to dry by its side. They kept it locked, as the kids had entered before and ruined a work-in-progress by leaving their fingertips on it.

She stared at a painting she had started weeks ago: a couple of small houses in the hills of The Vale during dawn. Landscape painting was her area of expertise. This was a lovely photo she had found on the internet, yet two weeks had gone by without painting a single brush and she didn’t know if she wanted to go on with this piece in particular. Every week that passed without holding a paintbrush enlarged a snowball of guilt, worry, and irritation. She used to paint every day, even when she didn’t have any ideas or inspiration, to practice and improve.

The frown of confusion on Jon’s face when she told him she didn’t paint much anymore came back to her. She had stayed in King’s Landing for her art, after all. She sighed and took the canvas out of the easel, placing a new blank one. She and the white, threatening void stared at each other. _‘You’re not good enough. You’ve forgotten much these years. Your skills are going rusty,’_ it seemed like it told her. She unscrewed the cap of the raw Sienna when she heard Visenya’s voice shout _“Mummy!”_, and she rushed to the garden to help Daemon who had just hit his head with the metal edge of the trampoline.

* * *

She watched out the window as Daario entered the garage in his car and checked her face on the mirror quickly to make sure there was no trace of her cries.

“Hello, hello, hello!” He greeted his children with a kiss on the head and went into the kitchen to give Dany a kiss on the lips. He usually arrived home tired, complaining about how finance was one of the most difficult, exhausting jobs out there, but he had his good days. He placed a brochure in front of her on the kitchen counter with the picture of a Porsche Cayenne on the cover.

She turned to him with a confused gaze—he had bought a Lexus a few months ago—yet he only held a wide grin. She remained silent, waiting for a reply.

“Okay, I can’t contain myself.” He grinned. “Guess who just got promoted to _Finance Manager_?!”

She placed her hands over her mouth. “No way!” She hugged him right away. “Congratulations, love! I’m so happy for you!”

As a celebration, she offered to cook his favorite dish: Beef Stroganoff, yet he insisted he would rather go out to a fancy meat restaurant he had wanted to go for ages. They took off with the kids, but when they arrived, they were told they needed a reservation. And, with an expression opposite of the one he had had a few minutes before, they went back home. She cooked Beef Stroganoff for him, anyway.

“Finance Manager is the highest charge in your area, right?” Dany asked him at the table as the four of them had dinner.

He rolled his eyes. “No, I’ve _told_ you. It's the CFO. _Then_ come the VPs, _then_ come the managers. It’s still a big deal, though. Barristan says I’m one of the youngest people to be promoted to manager.”

“That’s great, love. I knew you’d make it.” She forced a smile. Her insides stirred every time he was that patronizing with her, especially in front of the children.

Time was a merciless teacher and exhibitor. Parental pressures had exposed to Dany that he wasn’t the man she had invented. With the passing of years, his frowns and talkbacks transformed into shouts, and those shouts transformed into slams against the wall. Drunk, he had even thrown a purse at her. Sometimes, after an argument, he took the credit card he had given her and forbid her to buy anything unless she told him the specific items she would buy and their price. Then, he would hand her that amount in cash. Now, he had given her a debit card instead.

But was he that bad? She had learned to stand him for her children, and it didn’t really feel like abuse for her. Abuse was what her parents had been through: hard-raw slaps or punches, or her father dragging her mother by the hair across the room. If it hadn’t gotten to that, she thought, it could be remedied. He could change. And she would try to change him because they had built a life together, she had loved him, and they had children.

_Every marriage has its struggles,_ she guessed, especially when the day after an argument he arrived from home from work with tulips—her favorite flowers—or desserts, and a list of apologies worthy of a poetry book. She kept on telling herself that he was good beneath it all, that he had bad days as she had hers.

But even as her infatuation for Daario dissipated with time, her love for her children didn’t. When Visenya was born, maternal love hit Dany like a brick, somehow fitting inside her an unmeasurable amount of joy, bringing back colors to her life like oils to a canvas. It was the best hideout from her unfading love for Jon. It was infinite, it had her full attention, every bit of her care. Her children were the center of her universe now, which had drastically diminished her time for painting. When Visenya was born, Dany wanted to dedicate her time exclusively to her during her toddler years and then go back to work. But time passed and Daario kept on telling her: ‘It’s fine, Dany. I can pay the bills myself. Taking care of the kids should be our priority.’

She wanted to work, though. Art was a central part of her identity and being paid for her works came with a sense of achievement and an assurance that she was good at it—a question that haunted every artist and was appeased by a sale. However, it wasn’t long until she got pregnant again. _Do I really want to keep on building a family with Daario?_ she had asked herself. But envisioning another baby in her arms, another human being to whom she could give all her love, was enough to be happy about it. And Daario was so excited about having another child, it had seemed like he would be an amazing father. So when Visenya two years old, Daemon was born, and the amount of work, for _her_, duplicated.

As Daario put on his pajamas that night, Dany walked into their bedroom with a basket and their clean underwear. She told him, “Now that you’ll get a promotion, could we consider hiring a maid or a nanny to come here often? Maybe every day?”

“_Every day?_” Daario widened his eyes. “Shireen comes over when we need her—when we need to go out and the kids have no one to stay with. I think it’s fine that way.”

She sighed as she pulled a drawer open and put his jeans in. “But I need some help with the cooking and cleaning while they aren’t home, and then watching them, feeding them, taking them to the park, to football practice. I need more hours to paint. I need at least six straight hours on my own.”

“Can’t you paint like, early in the morning and then late at night? Instead of six straight hours, try to manage your time and divide them throughout the day. For instance, paint while they’re eating.”

“Daemon needs to be watched, otherwise he won’t eat. And I can’t break my concentration that way—I’d lose inspiration. _And_ the lighting at night isn’t as good as the daylight. _And_ just mixing the colors to get the right tones takes up a while. And you know I like to paint outdoors—“

“And you’ve taken your sketchbook with you when you’ve been with the kids to the beach club and—“

“But I have to watch them every ten seconds because they can run into the sea or something. Or someone comes up to me to say hi and distracts me and…” She sighed, she had put his gym shorts in his jeans drawer. “And with this new job, now you’re gonna travel more often, which means that I’m the only one who will be with them every minute.” She already was, anyway.

Even inside the house, it was difficult to paint. She took pictures of landscapes to paint at home, but when the kids were babies and they cried often, she could barely paint. It pulled her out of her thoughts right away. Her mind was only on them. And even now that they’re older, she still could not lock herself away from them. She had to watch that they didn’t play in the staircase railing or didn’t run out of the house without her permission—which had already happened—or that they got into an argument about whose turn it was to change the TV channel that could escalate into a fight.

Yet it was not _their_ fault that she could not paint. Many mothers worked. Daario could help out when he got home after work—feeding them, showering Daemon, taking them to the park—but he always arrived exhausted, with an excuse not to help.

He didn’t give her a choice but to be the caretaker. She loved her children with all her heart, but it didn’t feel fair that he could work and she could not. The full responsibility that fell on her was an obstacle _for her_ that set clear _her husband’s _path, so clear that he could show his commitment by staying until late at the office, so clear that he could go play golf and football with the chief executives, which added up to achieve a promotion. She wished that, at least, they could balance their parenting time.

“Dany, since you were pregnant, I’ve told you I can handle the bills. You don’t need to worry; you don’t need to make more money yourself, especially now that my wage will be thirty-five percent higher. Gods, what more do you want?”

She sighed. “I’m not just doing this for the bills.” He cared so much about money and thought she was the same way. Couldn’t he realize that she wanted more out of life? That art was vital for her? That she felt trapped when he blocked her way like that?

“The kids need to be raised by their mother too, you know? Not by some random nanny. It’s just for a while. In the blink of an eye, they’ll be independent and won’t need us any longer.”

And so, she dropped the subject before it morphed into an argument. She couldn’t really tell him her feelings, so she just tried to please him and avoid arguments. Every time she tried to start a dialogue about a problem they had, he replied: _“We’re doing okay.” _

_“I know we aren’t. Deep down, we aren’t. We’re just ignoring stuff, Daario.”_

_“We’re not, love. It’s all fine.”_

Every time she tried to open doors, he shut them in her face.

She and Jon had delayered one another until exposing the other’s core—their biggest fears, wishes, and flaws. That way, Jon loved the true Dany and Dany loved the true Jon. On the other hand, just like Daario loved who he wanted Dany to be, Dany loved the persona she had built around Daario, which was long gone. Those virtues, those similarities she had enlarged on him had fallen once her infatuation wore off and the monotony of family life exposed his flaws. While she and Jon strived to tear down barriers between them, she strived to _build_ barriers between her and Daario so he would not see her actual feelings. It was safer to comply and avoid those situations.

She had tried to hide her past for years from herself, stacking memories away like clothes in her drawers. She _had_ to, if she wanted to go on. She used to compare her relationship with Daario to the one with Jon, but it only made her more miserable. She and Jon had been happier. They also argued every now and then, as every couple did, but they had learned to talk their feelings out, to pay attention to the other, to take care of the other. She sighed. Their relationship had been hard work. Her relationship with Daario was hard. Period. And not because they were struggling to strengthen their relationship, they were striving to stand each other. Yet she kept on trying for her children. She had no other choice, she had gotten pregnant from Daario, she had had to learn to love him. It seemed better for the family. But how long could this go on? A life without painting, a loveless marriage…

When she got into bed and closed her eyes, she was brought back to a barbecue with Daario’s friends and their children when a wife of one of his colleagues told her: “There aren’t many of us anymore, are there? Stay-at-home-moms.”

“Oh, yeah. Not many,” Dany replied, watching the kids playing, chasing each other in the garden. They were sitting at a table with more people having a glass of wine after eating. Daario had his arm over the back of Dany’s seat. Charming in public, as usual.

“I love it, though,” the woman said. “I don’t know how I could handle my time otherwise. Or how I could be there for my kids.”

“I love it too. Occasional help from a nanny is also good though, to handle one’s time,” Dany said, making sure her husband was listening.

“I’ve heard there are nannies who hit children when you don’t see them,” she replied. “You can’t trust no one these days, can you?”

“No,” Daario intervened. “There was a time we went to a gathering and left the kids with a nanny at night. We came back a little earlier and found her with her girlfriends inside the house watching Netflix, eating popcorn…”

Everyone at the table laughed.

“One time my cousin arrived and found her with her boyfriend on a bedroom while the kids were asleep,” another colleague of Daario said.

“But still,” Myrcella said. “I think maids are lifesavers. I still need help with the cleaning and all that.”

When they got home, Daario reminded her about everything in that conversation except Myrcella’s bit. He got more and more and more excuses with time not to get a nanny. When she had a good point he only replied with an _‘I’ll think about it.’_ But thinking about it took forever.

Now, Daario was happy about his promotion and wanted to have sex before going to sleep. Dany refused, saying she was tired. But it wasn’t only Daario’s attitude what was holding her back from it—Jon had taken over her thoughts. _Jon_. How long it had been.

Before falling asleep, she texted him, _‘It was great seeing you today, Jon. Goodnight,’_ to which he replied right away, _‘I was thinking the same thing. Goodnight, Dany.’_

Without her command, the corner of her lips rose in a smile. Every single other thought that tried to cross her mind was undermined by her memories with Jon as she lay with her eyes shut in the dark. _‘Live the best life you can live,’_ she had told him before they hung up that last phone call. So, even if he was not the one in this bed with her, she was happy: Jon was alright, he was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***PLEASE READ***  
Hello! I hope you liked this first chap! :)  
I’m writing this long note to clarify some stuff about the fic:  
-This isn’t a love triangle. It’s a story about growing and getting out of an abusive relationship.  
-This isn’t a story of a damsel in distress who’s waiting for a man to come to save her. It’s about how love can help people find their inner strength. In a healthy relationship, both help one another.  
-This isn’t a manifesto against housewives or stay-at-home moms (raising children is the most important job in the world, imo), but against _abusive_ relationships which keep victims from growing in other aspects of their lives. Ofc, many women choose for themselves to be stay-at-home-moms, but as women are expected to fill this caretaker role more than men are, they carry a heavier burden, and the reinsertion in the labor market after being away for years is damn hard. 
> 
> Throughout the story I’ll try to answer the following question: “How much unconditional love, care, and fidelity do you owe to someone who treats you like shit and from whom you can’t get away?”  
Enjoy the ride!


	2. Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain.”  
—The Wild Palms, William Faulkner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been away from this fandom for a while and just made my comeback. I feared the Jonerys community was deserted now, after what had happened in GOT. I’m glad to see there are still readers out there. Honestly, I’m super happy with the feedback I got last chapter. The number of subscriptions that this fic got on a week overshadowed tremendously the comments that some antis had left.

_The Monk by the Sea _by Caspar David Friedrich

* * *

She stared at herself in the mirror after doing her makeup carefully. She chuckled to herself—as if Jon hadn’t seen her at her worst before. She put on her best perfume and made sure that her blouse was free of any wrinkles, that her nail polish hadn’t peeled, that her loose hair was slightly wavy on the ends. She remembered she used to have her hair in one braid all the time back then. She hadn’t braided it in years. Shireen, the nanny, stayed with the kids as Dany left the house with a tingling stomach from anticipation.

She arrived at the café before him and hesitated before sitting at a table for two—she usually sat at one for four. Jon arrived and their gazes met with a smile as he approached her.

It felt like the reenactment of a first date: a shy greeting, small talk to ease the tension, uncertainty of what to say and ask first.

“They make the best designs on coffee here,” he told her. She had always liked art on coffee.

As he read the menu, she stared at his features, the exact shape of his lips, nose, and eyebrows were finally coming back to her. Time had quietly washed away some details of him from her mind, yet here he was again, whole, only with a decade over him.

He looked up and caught her staring. She exhaled an awkward laugh and said, “I still can’t believe you’re here. That I’m sitting in front of you. I never thought I’d see you again. You look good, by the way.”

“Neither did I…you look good, by the way.”

She chuckled. “You too.”

Their smiles carried joy, grief, and pain. She was sure the same question was on both their minds: _what if it could have worked out?_

The waiter came up to them to take the order.

“A quiche,” she said.

“A crepe with fruits,” Jon said.

“And to drink?” the waiter asked.

Jon replied, “For me a cappuccino and for her…a macchiato?”

She nodded. Her favorite.

Once the waiter left them alone again, he asked her, “So, how’s motherhood?”

“It’s great. Exhausting but amazing. The other day I stepped on a Lego, though.” She grimaced.

“Oh shit,” he mirrored her expression of pain.

“Yeah, the downside.”

“How old are they?”

“Seven and five years old…before you do the math in your head—”

“It’s fine,” he waved off.

“Before you do the math in your head,” she went on anyway. “I started seeing Daario after we decided to date other people.”

“It’s fine,” he repeated. “I dated other people too after we broke up. Our relationship…just couldn’t go on.”

“No, it couldn’t.” She gave him a sad smile and they stayed silent.

“Well, I’m glad you…found love again and formed a family.”

Again, silence and a forced smile. They had wanted children together, but their low wages had made it impossible to make that choice.

She broke the silence. “So, how do you like King’s Landing?”

“It’s great, it’s warm, it’s full of people, and they fish so many different species that the zero kilometer food here is great. And people from all over the world live here, so I’ve learned much from international chefs.”

“It’s completely different from the North, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Life here is more hectic, but that’s fine. The North is way too…northern.”

“Exactly,” she chuckled. “And when you arrived, where were you working in?”

“In a sort of…mediocre restaurant,” he laughed, “as a cook. But you know I never loved the position of a cook, it’s only about following orders.”

“Yeah, you never liked following orders in the kitchen, you were always changing recipes to your liking,” she giggled. “I remember how when I cooked you threw random ingredients in my pan.”

“It annoyed you so bad,” he said with a grin.

“I had my recipes!” She laughed. “And then you just waltzed in and dropped a handful of pepper in my pan.” They both laughed. “You couldn’t get your hands off the kitchen. And you couldn’t stop experimenting, mixing different ingredients that seemed like they had nothing to do with one another.”

“Sometimes the result was disastrous, though.”

“Yes, sometimes it tasted like—”

“Like shit,” he said, and they both laughed. “Don’t be afraid to say it. We had to order pizza because my food was gross and we were hungry.”

“That’s the best way to learn, though. Fucking stuff up,” she laughed. “Do you remember how…sometimes…your dishes sent us straight to the toilet?” she said between laughs.

He let out the exact same laugh she used to hear ten years ago. “Yes! And in the tiny flat where we lived, with one bathroom only, I sat on the toilet while you waited outside for me to be done, and then you got in, and I waited for you to be done, and so on—“ he had to cut himself off when the waiter arrived and shot them a confused look. Perhaps they shouldn’t talk about that topic when people around them were eating. They swallowed their laughs as the waiter placed their coffees on the table. Her macchiato had a design of a lotus flower on it. She showed it to Jon with a grin of amazement.

“I bet you could also do that.”

“Painting oils and pouring milk into coffee artistically are _way_ too different skills,” she chuckled.

“Why did you abandon painting, though?”

“I mean, it’s not like I _abandoned_ it. When my kids are grown, I’ll go back to it. But I paint with them often, too,” she smiled, even though drawing stick figures didn't really count.

“It must be so fun to have a painter as a mum,” he said. “It must be every kid’s dream. They all love to paint and to draw.”

“They _all_ do. It’s amazing. There isn’t a child who isn’t having the time of his life while making art. It’s amazing how it can pull you in and make you focus on creating something and portraying reality in your own way…”

“We lose so many valuable things from childhood as we grow up. It’s great that you always kept it with you. Do your kids practice the culinary arts too?” he jested.

She laughed. “They’re too young to use anything with which they can burn or cut themselves with, but we do make cookies sometimes, they love to knead the dough.”

“Are you the kind of mum that doesn’t let them eat the dough?”

She hesitated and said, “Maybe.”

He laughed. “The dough is the tastier part!”

“If you had to take care of a sick kid, you’d understand. And it always hurts to see them hurt.”

They talked more about her kids, his siblings, and the jobs they used to have when they arrived at King’s Landing. A couple of hours wasn’t enough to catch up on a decade. Back then, they knew every single detail about the other and now she wanted to know everything she had missed of him all these years.

He transported her back to their years together in White Harbor. His smile brought her back to when she told a silly joke and he laughed about it anyway. His mouth trying the tea from the spoon brought her back to the times they cooked together and he sipped on his seasonings from a spoon. His thumb stroked his other fingertips up and down like he used to do when he was nervous, which reminded her of how he was before a job interview. Every action of his was an echo of their time together.

And the more they talked, the more she realized much of him was still present in her: her tone of laughter still carried a ring of his, the way she hummed when she sipped hot tea was a reflection of his, the way she pressed her forehead—sliding her fingers from its sides to meet on its center—was also his. Or had he adopted them from her?

“So, I guess we’ll…keep on talking?” She asked him after paying. “We could…go get a coffee every once in a while?”

He nodded. “Sure, nice, nice.”

She chuckled. “You still say that.”

“What?”

“_‘Nice, nice’_, twice, in that tone.”

He smiled back. “I guess. Do you still do this when you’re excited?” He shook his hands up and down with a grin.

She laughed out loud. “I do, actually. Sometimes.”

“Classic,” he said. “I think I haven’t met anyone again who does that.”

They said goodbye and, once again, she had a quick fear of losing him for a decade. She wanted him closer for longer. How could such a short conversation be enough with someone with whom she had shared her life and love for years?

She was happy to see him, but it hurt to be together again when their lives had changed so much. The ring around her finger still estranged them. Had it been a good idea to meet up? It had brought back to the surface the pain of leaving him, but also the love she would always have for him.

She abandoned her life with him for her art and her dreams. And here she was.

_‘Live the best life you can live,’_ she had told him in that last phone call.

_‘You too, Dany,’_ he had replied. _‘Please do.’_

_ _

_Allegory of Love _by Gustav Klimt

* * *

She picked up some small karts that the kids had left in the living room. She always told them to tidy up after playing but they always left toys, socks, or jumpers behind that she had to clean afterwards. She watered the garden, but Daemon ran out to bring a football ball into the house and stepped inside with his socks damp and full of dirt, staining the floor. Dany, annoyed, had to mop the floor of the living room and wash the dirt off his socks before putting them in the washing machine. Then, she served them both a bowl of fruits. Before she knew, it was dinner time.

At night, as she and Daario got into bed, he asked her, “Where were you today?”

“Huh?”

“The kids say Shireen was here. You went out.”

“Yeah, I… I went out with Missandei.”

“Only with Missandei?”

“Yes.”

“Not with Grey Worm, Haggo, any of those dudes?”

“No. We went out for a coffee, she’s having some issues at work, she needed someone to talk to. I’ll see her again one of these days,” she lied to cover more dates with Jon. “We…we want to meet up with the others from art school, it’s been a while.”

“Those weirdos. With their blue hair, pierced noses, ear expanders, tattooed arms…” The list could go on for ages, she knew it by heart. He threw a scene every time she hung out with them. It hadn’t been a wise excuse. “They only think about smoking pot and…”

“They’re much more than that. You’ve just been judgmental from the start. And it is _fiiine_ to you when your mates from the bank snort coke, which is ten thousand times worse.”

Daario rolled his eyes. “I don’t do that.”

“And I don’t smoke pot either.”

“I just don’t like them. You already hang out with the mums of the kids’ friends from school. They’re okay.”

“It’s not the same.”

“But it’s better.”

“Oh, but when you want to hang out with your mates it’s _‘necessary’_ and _‘it’s what gets you a promotion’._”

“It is, though.”

“My artist friends are the few people that keep me connected to the arts. And the mums of the kids’ friends…they’re not _really_ my friends.” She felt more like herself with her friends from art school. They kept in touch through texting, but it wasn’t the same. So, to get another excuse, she said, “The kids and I will see my mother this week.”

But he even complained when she saw her mother. _‘She always wants to tell us how to raise our kids’, ‘she thinks she knows better about our relationship.’_

Dany and Rhaella had a complicated relationship, anyway. They didn’t meet up often, only every once in a while for Rhaella to see her grandchildren. Her conflict with Dany and Daario shouldn’t be an impediment for her to see the kids, in Dany’s opinion, but Daario's opinion was different. So, Dany always planned for her to come over when Daario wasn’t home and preferred to see her rarely, as she was an obstacle to the apparent stability of her marriage and family.

“A painter?!” Rhaella had asked her when she finished high school. “I’m trying to raise you to be an independent woman. Someone who won’t end in a life like mine. In a hell like mine. And you choose the arts?! Your brothers study good majors—“

“I’m sorry, mom! I’m sorry I don’t give a shit about those careers. But I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t work in the arts. This is what I gotta do.”

Rhaella didn’t like her major, her husband, the brevity with which she had gotten pregnant and married him, and her absence of a job.

“So have you thought when you’ll start looking for a job?” Rhaella asked her every time they met up.

It annoyed Dany to the point of not wanting to talk to her again for days. She made her feel like she was worthless without a job.

“In a few years, mom. Daario says he can afford our expenses. I can take care of the kids for now.”

“Daario…Daario is a…” Dany shot her a look that shut her up for a while. “He criticizes you too much, Dany, and he can’t take criticism back, he can’t take anything that doesn’t fit what he thinks and he—“

“Mum, can’t you stay in your lane? My painting career, my husband, what else?”

“I don’t say all this to bother you, only because I care about you.”

“Let me live my life and stop intruding so much. Daario and I are doing _great_, mum.”

But Rhaella kept on telling her to notice her husband’s behaviors and attitudes. Dany didn’t want to notice. So she believed Daario was right: Rhaella intruded too much.

So, it was nice for a change to have gone out with Jon that day. Her social life was reduced to her husband’s friends when he took her to an event or the parents of her kids’ friends. The days when she sat alone in the living room, switching TV channels for random voices to keep her company, she felt like he was pulling her away from everyone else she had. The loneliness he had freed her from when they met had crept back in with the passing of time.

* * *

The next day went by: waking up early, getting the kids ready for school, dropping them off, and heading to the gym. Daario paid her gym membership for her to ‘stay fit’. Then, she got home, made the beds, cooked lunch, put the dirty laundry in the washing machine, picked up the kids, had lunch with them, dried the clothes, ironed and folded them while keeping an eye on the kids and whatever they were watching on the iPad.

‘Guess what?’ She texted Jon. ‘I’m making a fish chowder soup.’ She sent him a photo of the soup as it boiled.

‘No way!’ He replied. It was one of the many recipes she had learned from him. He sent her a photo of the kitchen he was working in. It was huge and crowded by the cooks. ‘The hardest part is not being able to eat what we cook,’ he added, making her laugh.

In the evening, Dany took the kids to celebrate the birthday of a friend of Visenya’s at a restaurant with a dance show. Dany sat with the other parents to try to socialize with them, while Daario played golf with some colleagues from the bank. During some moments, it was difficult to keep on intervening in conversations, as they mostly talked about their jobs. When she got anxious and didn’t know what to say, she took out her phone and texted Jon again. He replied quickly, telling her he was on a break.

‘Are you wearing the white hat?’ She asked him. She always used to tell him she loved chef’s outfits.

He replied with a selfie of himself wearing the classic chef’s hat.

‘It looks great on you!’ she replied.

‘Thank you. You have no idea how much I’m blushing right now.’

When his break was over, it took him longer to reply to her texts. Rush hour was starting at the restaurant. So, again, Dany forced her way into the conversation at the table with the other parents. Throughout the years, she had started to dress like them, wear her hair like them, and talk like them. It was difficult not to compare herself to others. They were all nice to her always, and, multiple times, she had received comments on how perfect of a couple she and Daario were. In a society where people constantly compared themselves to one another, those impressions had to be protected.

But when Visenya got into a fight with a girl and punched her, Dany wanted the ground to swallow her. She stood up from the table and rushed to her daughter and the other girl. She was the daughter of one of Daario’s coworkers at the bank and had told Visenya she couldn’t dance. Dany made Visenya apologize and took her home. She grounded her for a week, yet they agreed not to tell Daario about it. He wouldn’t react well.

But it was a useless attempt.

The following evening, Daario arrived shouting, “Visenya! _VISENYA!_” Dany chased him, trying to calm him down but he ignored her, rushing upstairs to the movie room where the kids were playing. “You punched Elaena _Martell_?!”

Visenya wept right away while Daemon, sitting next to her, watched them with worried eyes. “The daughter of _Quentyn Martell!_” He ignored her. “Do you have any idea how bad this made me look at work when he told me this during lunch, in front of everyone?”

“Daario. They’re children. I’m sure he won’t make such a fuss about—“

“Visenya, what the hell were you _thinking_?!” he shouted.

“Don’t shout at my daughter like that.” Dany stood in front of him.

“She’s my daughter too. And this is _my_ house,” he inflated his chest as he faced her. He turned to Visenya. “Give me your Minnie!”

“No!” she replied.

He tugged it from her hands and took it downstairs. Visenya chased him crying. Dany chased them. Daemon followed them quietly. Daario threw the doll into the trashcan in the kitchen.

“No!” Visenya cried. “Daddy, please!”

“Kids who misbehave don’t deserve rewards.”

“But, daddy, she was—“

“No, no excuses! Do you think aggressiveness solves _anything_?” he asked aggressively.

“Daario, calm down.” Dany intervened, opening the trashcan behind him. “They’ll solve this—“

“Daenerys, no.” She took it out anyway. He pulled her by the arm but she yanked it back. It throbbed in pain. She ignored it.

“Don’t throw this away, she’s already grounded—“

“Since when do you think you can tell me what to do?”

“Visenya gets your point. There’s no need to—”

“_This girl_ doesn’t know how to behave and you don’t do sh—_anything_.”

Visenya cried. “I won’t hit anyone again, daddy.”

“Of course, you won’t,” Daario said.

Visenya tried to take the Minnie from Dany’s hands but Dany told her, “No. Earn it back. You’ll have it when you apologize to the girl.” Visenya nodded looking at the ground, with a red and damp face. “Visenya,” Dany added. “You can’t go around hitting people. Even if she insulted you. You could even go to her mother and tell her about it. But you’re not gonna solve anything with violence,” she echoed Daario’s words, but directed them to him as well.

* * *

“Don’t _defy_ me in front of my children,” he told her later in the bedroom.

“Don’t talk to them that way. You scare them, Daario.”

“You’re delegitimizing my authority, Daenerys!”

“Why do you have more authority than me? I’m the one who puts the most effort into raising them and—“

He laughed out loud sarcastically. “The most effort? Who the hell works his ass off to feed you three?”

“Exactly. You work your ass off in the bank, I work my ass off at home. I do much more than you when it comes to parenting…”

“But as soon as I want to correct my children, you keep me from doing so!”

“You’re _overreacting_. You care more about your image with your colleagues, about Quentyn Martell, than about your daughter’s wellbeing? You scare her when you get this angry.”

“How else will she understand? Huh? Tell me. How else will you understand?” He raised his voice again. “Daenerys, you literally had to do one thing. Keeping our children in line in front of others. In front of my colleagues or their wives. And you _still_ fuck up.” He poked her clavicle with his finger, making her flinch. “God. Can’t you do one thing right?”

“Well, maybe you should also be present at the birthday parties to keep _your_ children in line instead of _golfing_ around—“

He knocked a chair to the ground with his dirty clothes on top. The loud sound made her jerk.

“Do you think I would’ve gotten this promotion if I didn’t_ ‘golf around’_?!” He shouted. “Stop being so fucking _ungrateful_.”

“Ugra—“ A tear of anger tried to leak out. She took a deep breath. “Daario. I’m trying _really_ hard to raise our kids-”

“Are you? ‘Cause a good mother keeps their children from being aggressive.” _Then I guess your mother wasn’t a good mother_, she thought to herself. “You can’t even raise them well and you _still_ want to hire a nanny or a maid to spend _less_ time with them. They need to be watched _more_, not _less_. Put more effort into motherhood, will you? I don’t want any incident like this one to happen again. You made me look bad in front of everyone at work.”

She wanted to shout at him, to tell him she puts a whole lot of effort into motherhood. How dare he? But it frightened her to raise her voice at him too much.

“Next time, tell me these things,” he told her. “Don’t hide them from me. Yesterday night you kept your mouth shut about it.” He got into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

This was exactly why she hid them from him.

As she lay in bed, she told herself the same consolation that had kept her going for years: he wasn’t that bad _all_ the time. He had his good things. Like, he got her her favorite pastries from time to time after work—even though he usually got her diet foods for her weight not to go up much—and they watched movies with the children some evenings and he was a darling with them. He kissed them, tickled them, threw popcorn to the air and caught it with his mouth. Those moments were pure bliss—her family was the only loving she had. She held onto that during hard times. It gave her hope. It seemed like the man she fell in love with could come back. But it seemed like the only way for him to come back would be if she complied and didn't argue back. She could _earn_ that side of Daario back that way. But how much of herself was she consuming for complying?

_Ungrateful_, he called her every time they argued. Every time. What if there was a bit of truth in it? He did so much for her and the kids. She appreciated it, of course she did. But he used to be so wonderful at the start, what went wrong for him to change so much? Was it her?

She was a lucky woman, wasn’t she? Daario had his bad days, but he wasn’t bad all the time. Sometimes she annoyed him and his anger won over, but didn’t she have what many people wanted? Beautiful children, a beautiful husband, a beautiful house in a beautiful neighborhood. Yes, she did not work in what she loved, but at least she could sometimes paint for herself in private or sit down with her children to paint together. _Wasn’t she a lucky woman?_ She wondered as she picked up the chair and clothes he had knocked over. She had kept on standing Daario and his fits for years, hoping that her _love_ could turn him into the man he was during those moments of popcorn and tickles.

Love. Was it love what she had for him? Was it love what he had for her? Jon’s presence, though, had brought back to her memory a relationship where she didn't have to ask herself any of the previous questions. Now that he was in her contacts again, she fought the urge to share with him this incident with her husband. She used to tell him everything back in the day. She had no one else to talk to and he…he would understand.

No. They had just met again. She wasn’t going to tell him all her problems so quickly. But how bad she wanted to see him again! Yet when she took her phone in her hands, there was already a text of him awaiting a response. ‘Did your kids like the fish soup?’ it read.

She chuckled and wrote, ‘Not really. But Daemon is extremely difficult to please. He only likes junk food. Visenya eats better, though.’

‘Maybe the seasoning was too strong for him? Tell me which ingredients you used and I’ll try to help.’

She turned off the phone screen quickly as Daario walked out of the bathroom, as if guilty of a crime.

The next day, she asked him for tips as well while she cooked. Her day went exactly the same as the previous ones: cooking, cleaning, watering the garden, and with music on to keep her company. The only rupture to its monotony was a conversation the kids were having in Daemon’s bedroom. She was walking down the corridor with a basket of dirty laundry when she overheard Daemon say, “I’ll be the knight! And you’ll be the princess. I’ll kill the dragon that wants to hurt you.”

“No!” Visenya replied. “I’ll save you from it. _I’m_ the big sister. Mummy has told me many times that if anyone bullies you, _I_ have to protect _you_.” Dany smiled at her words. Visenya went on, “Just like I protect you those nights when you cry.”

Dany lifted her head and tiptoed outside the door to hear better.

“You also cry, Visenya,” Daemon said. “You also get scared those nights.”

“Yes. But I still protect you.”

Dany frowned in curiosity.

“It’s scarier than a dragon,” Daemon said. “Especially when mummy cries like that…she sounds in pain. Daddy sounds like a villain, not like a knight or a prince.”

Dany's jaw dropped and she covered her mouth.

“She’s not in pain. She’s stronger than us,” Visenya said.

Dany exhaled, shutting her eyes hard. When she and Daario knew that a big fight was coming, she locked the kids in the movie room and put on a movie with high volume for them not to hear anything: her cries, his shouts, or any of the things they said. But there were times when an argument was unplanned and it burst out of nowhere, usually late at night. The kids had listened to them, who knows how many times. And they cried about it. And she didn’t know.

She wanted to storm in and say, _‘Daemon! Visenya! Don’t worry about me!’_. But she had taught them not to eavesdrop. She didn’t want them to know she had done exactly that. She always wanted to teach them with her example.

She sighed and kept on walking towards the laundry room, wondering how she could calm their worries. What could she tell them to push away their fears?

_Morning Sun _by Edward Hopper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [EDIT: MAY 2020] To the new readers: Would you mind telling me in the comments how you think this story will end? I'm curious to see how many details readers can or cannot predict about the ending (don't worry, it won't change my thoughts about it, the ending is already set and almost completely written). I won't answer your comment with a 'yes' or 'no' to avoid spoilers. But as a writer that feedback could be of great value!
> 
> Anyway, Jon will be SUPER present from now on and Daario will fall to a second plane for most chapters. It's a Jonerys fic, after all. <3


	3. Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany’s dates go on. Jon has a present for Dany. Dany restarts her painting habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The song for this chapter.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=df-eLzao63I) Dany will listen to it while she paints. You can listen to it while you read :)

_Sunset In Acapulco by Diego Rivera _

* * *

She and Jon went to a food truck in an avenue she had never heard of. He had been a shorter time in King’s Landing but knew many more places than her, especially when it came to food.

They ate grilled shrimps pinned on skewers. She tried them and hummed in delight.

“Told ya,” he said with a smile.

“Curry and lemon go so well here,” she said.

“Exactly. I’d love to hire these guys to work with me in the restaurant. They’re great.”

There were no tables nor chairs around, so they ate standing next to the truck. She looked around to check if there was anyone she knew around, that could see her with another man. No, Daario’s friends didn’t even hang out in this area.

Jon told her he and his boss were in an experimental phase to create a vegan dish for the menu. “In almost every group that comes, there’s a vegan or vegetarian. We can’t only serve them chips or only noodles and vegetables. We need something for everyone.”

“And how is it going?”

“It’s complicated.” He shook his head. “Tofu, for example, it’s a boring ingredient. Like, the taste is just… _dull_. So we need to experiment with different spices, herbs, seasonings…”

“We should go to a vegan restaurant next time, then,” she smiled. “You know, for research purposes.”

“I’d like that.” He smiled back.

She bit a shrimp and tried to pull out of the skewer with her teeth. It got stuck and he said, “Just use your fingers.”

She didn’t like touching her food without washing her hands, but ended up pulling the shrimp with them and eating it. “Thanks for bringing me here, by the way.” She told him. “I haven’t eaten street food in _a while_.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled.

“Why?” She chuckled back.

“I mean…you seem quite posh, now,” he joked.

She dropped her jaw. “I’m not posh!”

“Alright,” he laughed. “But I can tell your current lifestyle is completely different from the one we used to have—judging by the car you drive and the neighborhood you live in. At least admit you hang out with posh people. I can tell by the changes in your accent.”

“I don't hang out with the poshest of the posh but…yeah, sort of posh.”

He laughed. They used to make fun of posh people all the time. “Tell me. How are they?”

She hesitated before mocking anyone, but ended up saying, “Oh, you would laugh so hard! They don’t say, ‘let’s go to the living room’, they say, ‘let’s go to the _lounge’_.”

Jon laughed out loud. “No way!”

“_‘Let’s sit on the couch in the living room’_ turns into a_ ‘let’s have a seat on the sofa in the lounge’,_” she said between laughs, “_‘for brunch.’ _Or,_ ‘that was a rather good cricket match!’_” Jon kept on laughing. Dany continued, “We go watch horse riding competitions. And my husband plays golf, I have to go watch him sometimes and pretend I’m having fun. _However_, they like good food, I’ll give them that, and they like fine arts too, which is nice!” She felt guilty for mocking people she liked and that were kind to her, though, so she added, “They’re lovely, though. Not as annoying as we used to picture them back in the day.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve met a bunch and they’re nice. We used to stereotype them because we didn’t agree with their political views.”

“Exactly. We were a bit immature. But it’s really…it’s sort of exhausting sometimes, I feel like people here are more…judgmental. More than my artists friends, at least, who I don’t see often anymore. I basically only hang out with my husband’s friends when he has a gathering or something with his colleagues, or with my kid’s friend’s parents when there’s a birthday party or a playdate. But I don’t really feel like I fit in.”

“Have you lost contact with your friends from art school?”

“No, I…I do follow them on Instagram…I check out their works. Not all of them are still painting, though.”

“Not all my friends from school are chefs either. But it’s fine if you still do it in your free time, I think.”

“Yeah.” She pursed her lips and in a low voice added, “Although I can’t even do it in my free time much.”

He gave her a sad smile. “Can you…and please don’t take it the wrong way but…can you live without it? I mean, once you find what you love, letting it go is…” he trailed off. She knew he meant the arts but could he also mean each other?

“I do have a hard time when I haven’t painted in a while. It feels weird when I don’t do it, as if something were missing—like not having showered or brushed my teeth. But art changes you. It can never be gone forever. Being a painter makes me see every scene as if I have some sort of goggles: I see everything in geometrical shapes—the bases of what later will be trees, waves, hills, clouds—the triangles I need to draw before painting that wave I’m seeing, I see the lighting of the sky, the sea…or every time the sunlight enters the kitchen, I think about its angle, or the angle of the sunlight filtering through trees, there’s a word for it in Japanese, did you know? _Komorebi_. And the reflection that the moon has on the sea at night is called _mångata_ in Swedish. I love painting those moments. I love that there are words for it… it means their culture has a high appreciation of nature.”

He watched her with a smile. “I agree.”

“And our arts have much in common. You take different ingredients, I take different colors, we mix them, and we achieve an outcome that makes a moment more beautiful. Every ingredient on its own is alright, but mix them wisely and you can get a masterpiece, just as you can with ordinary colors.”

A smile trembled on his face. The sun was setting and its orange light shone on Jon’s face, embellishing his features. She had missed him. This was only the second time they were seeing each other, and she was already talking nonstop about the arts—she didn’t really talk about this often.

“I have something for you, in my car,” he told her.

“For me?”

He nodded. “I was planning to give it to you the last time we met but I left home so quickly I forgot.” He shook his head. “Come with me.”

She followed him to a parking space nearby. He opened his car’s trunk and revealed a set of large, bubble-wrapped tubes. He held one, pulled the bubble wrap out and unrolled a canvas.

She gasped and placed her hands over her mouth. “No way.”

“I brought them here to give them to you when I found you.”

He handed it to her. The rocky beach at White Harbor stared back at her, eighty by forty centimeters. A couple of surfers slid in the tall waves. The shades of blue had a light value, in contrast to the dark one from the mountains at its sides. She brushed her finger along the brushes. She couldn’t help the tears that fell on her cheeks. This was her youth in paintings.

She had been so puzzled by meeting Jon again that she had forgotten about the many paintings she had left in White Harbor. She had only brought a few to King’s Landing to have them as models for her projects in art school here.

“I couldn’t bring everything with me, though,” Jon told her. “Sam’s keeping the others. I told myself that if I found you, I’d bring them here too.”

“Th-thank you,” were the only words she could pronounce. She hugged him tightly and he hugged her back with the same intensity. She allowed herself to cry. It was a vital piece of her life. More than one. Her art. Jon. The life she had lost presented herself before her once again. Would she be able to let go?

“They reminded me so much of you, so much,” he said in a low voice.

“And you wrapped them so well,” she chuckled and sniffed against his shoulder. “You rolled them loosely, it’s not tight. It’s facing out. The bubble wrap isn’t stuck against it either.”

“Yeah.” He rested the side of his face on her head. He exhaled a long breath, and she gave in to the embrace. She had a ring around her finger with a twin on another man’s finger, but this was a well-deserved embrace. It was gratitude. No one had done something this kind for her in years.

More tears fell down. The last time she had cried tears of joy had been when Daemon had been born. And before that, when Visenya had been born. No matter what could happen in her day, that smile couldn’t be torn away from her face.

She took the paintings back home, and on the red lights, she couldn’t help unrolling and watching them. She was good, she thought as she watched them. She was damn good. She had tried to ignore her talent for the absence of painting to hurt less, but hell, she couldn’t fool herself now that she was face to face with her work. And she hadn’t even gone to grad school yet when she painted these!

Such a rush of adrenaline refused to abandon her. When she got home, she needed to paint. Her children were watching a movie with Shireen when she walked in. Dany quickly kissed their heads to greet them.

“Mummy, we went to the park,” said Daemon. “There was a dog that was taller than me!”

“A great dane,” said Visenya.

“That’s wonderful, love,” Dany replied. “Shireen can you stay over a little longer?”

“Yes, Daenerys,” she replied. “For how long?”

“Um…I’m not sure, until my husband arrives…whatever time it is, we’ll pay you extra. I’ll be at the office, don’t bother me, please. Serve them dinner, please, it’s in the fridge.”

She kissed her children's heads again and rushed to her bedroom to put her hair up in a bun and put on an old white t-shirt. She filled a cup with water for the paintbrushes. In the office, she quickly hung a new blank canvas on the easel. She closed her eyes, navigating with her mind through the streets of the city, trying to think up the most picturesque part of King’s Landing. She chose the wooden bridge on the bohemian neighborhood, surrounded by trees from which small, rounded light bulbs hung. She usually painted with a picture as a reference, but painting from her mind was one of the most fun challenges.

She did a quick sketch on a notebook before starting. She took out her raw sienna and drew the basic geometric shapes on the canvas: triangles, squares, rhombus, circles. Then, she turned them into the shape of the bridge, the trees, the river below, the restaurants and cafés in the background.

_Knock knock. _

“Yes?”

Shireen opened the door carefully and asked, “Do you want dinner as well, Daenerys?”

“No, dear, thank you. Only bother me if it’s urgent.”

She was left alone again and put on music and with a high volume to keep her thoughts from wandering to whatever other sounds she heard. Music without lyrics was another fuel for creativity, to be in touch with her feelings. Where words couldn’t arrive, music could. _Mozart, Piano Concerto No. 21 in C Major._ That song was colors. She moved her paintbrush in the air like the director of an orchestra as she pictured the bridge in her mind, thinking up which colors to use.

She wrote in the notebook: ‘tree 1 - purple, tree 2 - shades of blue’, to keep the ideas from running away.

What was her biggest motor? Jon’s reappearance? The paintings' reappearance? A mixture of both, maybe. Mixture was a central part of art—of emotions, inspiration, and colors. Or oils. On her palette. On her arm. She painted different shades of blue on her arm. Closer to the elbow was the darkest blue, and closer to her hand, the lightest one.

“Mummy, what are you painting?” Daemon’s voice made her gasp in surprise.

“Baby. I didn’t hear you get in.”

Shireen appeared behind him. “I’m sorry, Daenerys. He sneaked away.”

Dany squatted down to Daemon’s level. “You’ll see when I’m done. It’ll be so colorful!” She kissed his cheek. “Let me have some alone time for now.”

He and Shireen left. Dany locked the door. She kept on mixing different oils in the palette and some on her arm. The paintbrush kissed the canvas again. She went on and on and on and on, birthing life again into another white canvas. Rush. Adrenaline. Flow. Her arms tingled when she couldn’t paint fast enough. She took a step back, shrunk her eyes and watched the composition. It had vivacious, high-pitched hues. Another brush, another step back to see the change. It was going well, it wasn't perfect, but she hadn't painted this fast in years.

_Knock, knock._

She sighed. “Not now, Shireen!”

“Open up.” _Daario_.

She paused the music, cleaned her hands with a damp towel and opened up. “Hi.”

“Do you know what time is it?”

“No,” she said, honestly.

“It’s almost midnight. The kids are asleep.”

“Oh, yeah, Shireen tucked them into bed, I guess. Yes, I asked her to. I’m starting to work again,” she smiled.

“Yeah, okay. It’s just that I arrive and the girl's sitting on the sofa and she asks me to pay her _a hundred and fifty_ _bucks_?!” He asked with a frown.

“She was here a while, yes. I got hooked painting and asked her if she could stay a little longer.” Omitting the part where she had been out.

“A little longer meaning…_midnight_?”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you arrived so late.” Her foot was bouncing up and down. She didn’t want to cut the inspiration.

“I was working.”

“I’m working too,” she replied. He rolled his eyes. “Daario. The kids are too little. I can’t leave them on their own for now.”

“Exactly. The kids are too little, which is why I’ve asked you _very calmly and respectfully_,” the patronizing tone was back, “to get back to work when they're more independent.”

When would that time come? When they left for college?

“I need to paint,” she said, hinting the end of the conversation.

“Dany…”

“I _need_ to paint. Look, say whatever you want. Tomorrow.”

“How easy for you, because you aren’t the one who’s paid a hundred and fifty bucks!”

“You just bought a Porsche Cayenne. Don’t tell me you don’t have a hundred and fifty bucks.”

“But if you do this every day it will be seven hundred and fifty bucks a week, three thousand a month, and who knows for how many hours you’ll call her for…”

“Okay. Sorry.” Time to comply. “I should’ve asked you.” Even though he would have said no anyway. “I’ll pay you back next time I sell a painting.” She meant it.

He rolled his eyes. “You haven’t sold one in _years_. Look, you can paint at another moment…like when the kids are in school.”

“I have to cook when they're in school and take advantage of their absence to clean the house…” She didn’t want to go through this again.

“Well, I don’t know. I just know that you can’t avoid your responsibilities as a mother—“

“Tomorrow,” she said, her leg was bouncing again.

“Don’t cut me off.”

“I’m begging you. Tomorrow. Tell me whatever you want. That I’m a bitch, that I’m a bad mother. Tomorrow.”

“No wonder why our kids misbehave if their mother is locked up painting. Don’t do this again without asking me,” he said and shut the door.

She locked it again and sighed. She had the following day to argue with him, now, her priority was to yank back her inspiration and keep it from running away. She resumed the song, dipped her paintbrush into the cup of water and went on.

_Unknown artist. If you know who this is from, please let me know! :)_

* * *

Her alarm woke her up at seven a.m. like every school morning. Her entire body hurt, she had only slept three hours. She wished Daario could make breakfast for the kids or drive them to school, she had asked him so multiple times, but he insisted he _had_ to go to the gym early in the mornings. So he left at six every day.

She made breakfast and dropped the kids off at school so tired she was afraid she would fall asleep against the steering wheel, and avoided any parent that could greet her or just see her with that sleepy face. Back at home, she dropped her body on the bed and fell asleep without even getting under the covers.

Her phone rang and she woke up with a groan and drool on her hand. She grabbed her phone. _Jon_. She sat up and cleared her throat.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he said. “How are you? I’m heading later to an eastern food market and I have to cross your area to get there, I gotta buy some spices and herbs for the night shift. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and hang out? Just an idea.”

“Oh,” she yawned. She had not showered in almost twenty-four hours and would need a lot of make-up to hide the bags under her eyes. “Umm…do you want me to tell you the truth? I just woke up,” she chuckled, embarrassed.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I woke you up?”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine I…” she chuckled. “I’ve been painting all night, till four am.”

“No way! I’m so happy to hear that.”

“Seeing the paintings was like…a shot of adrenaline.”

“I’m glad it was.” She yawned and he said, “Gods, I’m so sorry for waking you up. I feel terrible.”

“No, it’s fine. I gotta get up anyway, it's super late. I gotta make lunch, it has to be ready for when the kids get home.”

“_No, no, no, no_,” he said in a funny tone. “Get some sleep, I’ll get you food.”

“No, you don’t have to.”

“Come on, get some rest. I’m at the restaurant right now. I’ll get you the food. I insist. If there’s something I know well is that when you’re falling asleep over the pan, the taste just isn’t the same. And I’m heading to your area anyway, so I could stop by and give it to you.”

She chuckled, she was so tired she couldn’t refuse such a tempting offer. “Um, okay, I guess. Thank you. I’ll send you my address.”

“What do you want? What do your kids like to eat?”

“What do you have on the kids’ menu?”

“Fish and chips, fish burger…”

“Yeah, two fish and chips. And for me…nothing too fancy just…some spaghetti…with…seafood?”

“Marinara?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect. Will be there in an hour.”

She let out a tired laugh. “Thank you so much. “

“Don’t worry. Get some rest. Don’t dress up, don’t do your make up. Sleep.”

She chuckled. “Okay, I will.”

She hung up with a smile on her face, sent him her address, and went back to sleep.

She woke up with the stinging sound of a message notification from Jon. “Ma’am, your UberEats has arrived.”

She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Shit. How could she open up like this? She looked like Medusa with such messy hair. She put it up in a bun and sprayed perfume on herself. Concealer, quick. A bit of foundation to hide the bags under her eyes.

He called her. She ran to the bed and picked up. “I’m coming down in a second!”

“Sorry, I don’t want to hurry you up. It’s just that I gotta buy the spices and get back to the restaurant.”

“I’m coming,” she repeated, ran back to the bathroom and hit her shoulder with the door frame.

She wouldn’t keep him waiting any longer when he didn’t have time. So she went downstairs as she was, with wrinkled sweatpants and a sweater and a dead face.

She opened the door.

“Your order’s ready,” he smiled and handed her a couple of paper bags.

“Thank you so much. It’s a pity you can’t stay and chat for a bit.”

“I’d love to. But I gotta go. Why don’t you come with me to the market, though?”

“I’m not dressed properly…”

“For the market? We used to go in pajamas to the supermarket. Come on, it will be quick. I won’t buy much.”

She was sleepy, but she wanted to be with him. “Okay. Let me grab my keys and wallet.”

She left the food inside, combed her hair quickly, took off her sweatpants, put jeans on instead and rushed downstairs to get in his car with him.

At a red light, he turned to her as they talked and stared down at her hands.

“What?” She chuckled. “What are you watching?”

“You know, these last times I’ve been with you…your hands caught my eye.”

“My hands?”

“Yes, they’re perfect, they…” He chuckled awkwardly. “I mean, they were neat, with a perfect manicure. Today I’ve seen your hands like I remembered they looked after work, with a bunch of stains of different colors.”

“Oh…yeah, it’s a bit hard to wash off all the painting when it’s been on my skin for many hours. Some traces of the oils get stuck.” She turned her hands, there were a few trails of blue and purple oils on their back.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I remember you mixed colors on your hand sometimes. Or that you used your arm as a palette.”

“I still do.” She smiled. “So you think my hands look better now?” She chuckled.

_Was she flirting with him?_

“Um…it’s nice because it brought back memories. But they're also pretty when they're neat. You—you have pretty hands.”

She held back a laugh at his compliment. “Thank you. You do too. And your hands weren’t the neatest back in the day, either.”

He laughed. “I know.”

“No matter how hard you washed them, they kept on smelling like garlic and onion.”

He laughed out loud. “They still do sometimes.”

As they walked into the market, multiple sellers greeted Jon. He replied kindly to everyone, he even knew their names. They arrived at a section full of pots of spices. There were pots with green spices, others with red ones, yellow ones, brown ones, beige ones. The colors were strong and vivid. She wanted to paint this view.

“I’d never been to this market before,” she told him. 

“It's miles better than any supermarket,” Jon said. “With fresher and better quality.”

“What are you gonna get?”

“Let’s see…” Jon shrunk his eyes in thought. “Paprika, curry, anise, sage, oregano…and your favorite one.”

“Which one?”

He pursed his lips to help a smile blooming on his face. She knew it—his playful smile. “Cumin, or as you used to call it—“

“Cummin’.” They both said in unison and laughed out loud.

_‘I love cummin’,’_ She used to say back in the day when he cooked with cumin, winking at him. _‘Really, I love cummin’.’_

_‘I know you do,’ _he replied.

Was it inappropriate to talk about cumming with her ex? They were having such a good time, she didn’t care.

He grabbed small paper bags and poured a different spice into each of them. He bought the spices he needed (and more he didn’t need but bought anyway) and made her smell every one of his bags.

“Guess. What is this?” He asked her, holding one of his bags open.

She put her nose in and inhaled. “Lavender?”

“Yes! Excellent. I make syrup with lavender. It’s great.”

“Syrup?”

“Yeah. It improves the scent and taste, both very softly. You’re gonna love it. I could send you my recipe.”

He opened another one of his bags and made her guess what it was. This moment transported her back to their life together:

“Close your eyes,” he said as she sat at the table in their flat. She closed them. “No, I think I’ll blindfold you.”

“You don’t trust me?” She had laughed out loud. “I won’t open them!”

“But you might accidentally do so.”

“We don’t have a blindfold, though.”

“Don’t we? What a sham. We need to step up our sex life.” He went into their bedroom and started laughing on his own.

“What are you doing?” she laughed.

“A blindfold.” He walked out of the bedroom with a couple of long socks tied together on the ends.

She laughed out loud. “You’ll put that on my face?”

“They’re yours,” he replied and sniffed them. “And they’re clean.”

He tied them around her head, covering her eyes. “You’re ready now.”

She could hear as he placed plates on the table.

“Option one,” he said. She opened her mouth, felt a fork get in and pulled the food into her mouth with her lips. “What do you taste?”

She chewed. “Butter.”

“Yes.”

“Garlic.”

“Yes.”

“Rosemary?”

He giggled. “No.”

Option two was straight-up weird, though. Anchovies with condensed milk.

“What the hell?” she had only replied when she started chewing it. The taste was good, though.

“Option three,” he said, and inserted his tongue into her mouth. They laughed out loud.

* * *

‘Hey did you cook this yourself? It’s great,’ she texted him after she and the kids had lunch.

‘Ah, I’d love to say I did. I don’t do the actual cooking every day at the restaurant. The cooks do, under my supervision, though. But these fish and chips have been fried by some of my finest cooks, just like your spaghetti.’

‘It’s great. I wish I could have told it was or wasn’t your food. Haven’t eaten it in so long.’

Days passed, and they kept on texting each other every day, to the point where they used Snapchat for his messages to fade away and leave no trace behind on her phone. She was sure a silent question was in both their heads: what was going on? Yet neither of them said it out loud.

And she kept and kept on painting until late at night, regardless of her husband's whines for her to get back to bed. It seemed like with Jon she could be her true self. The one she’d been hiding for a while behind her perfect nails and expensive earrings.

She stared at her last work-in-progress in the office.

“What a pro,” she told herself.

She lay her paintings on the table. One was predominantly blue, another, predominantly yellow; another, green; another, purple; others were just a mixture of color and life.

She sent a photo to Missandei. ‘Check out this seascape!’ She wrote.

‘Perfect shading on the waves!’ She replied.

She placed one by one on her easel and took pictures to send them to her artist friends. She also asked them to let her know if they knew of anyone interested in buying paintings or that wanted murals painted. They were happy to hear she was back at it. But why not upload them to Instagram instead? And Facebook? And while she was at it, at an online gallery? Maybe a potential buyer could see them.

Once they were done, her friends told her they would pass her profile around. She sent the links to Daario, asking him to spread the word in the bank and to his mates, maybe some of them wanted to buy paintings.

‘Sure,’ he texted back. His friends had money and many liked having paintings in their houses, perhaps some of them could be interested.

She hesitated before sending the link to Jon. No. She’d rather show him her profile face to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few clarifications about some misunderstandings that I've seen in the comments:  
Dany didn't dump Jon. She was going to KL for a year only, but when that year was coming to an end, she had better job opportunities there than in the north. Dany wanted to go back to the north, but Jon insisted for her not to, and Jon wanted to go to KL, but Dany insisted for him not to. Dany didn't dump Jon. They both agreed to break up and start dating other people and to stay in the city where they were because they were working on what they loved there. They put the other first. Chapter 4 will be about this topic, but I'm writing it here anyway as a preview to clarify some questions. 
> 
> Stay tuned. Things will start to get preeeetty serious between these two on the upcoming chapter ;)


	4. Nostos, Algia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It was an act of love, letting each other go, wasn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! These have been really productive weeks and the extension of this fic is expanding, which is why I’ve changed the number of chapters from “8” to “?”. There will be maaany love scenes but also a fair amount of angst, naturally.
> 
> I want to say thank you and give a warm virtual hug to those who have shared with me in the comment section that they’ve been in a relationship similar to Dany/Daario's. I hope your life is better now and that you’ve found the inner strength all human beings can have to go on.

_ _

_"The Painter’s Honeymoon" by Lord Frederic Leighton _

They look a bit like them, don’t they? <3 Supposedly, she’s the painter and is giving him a lesson :)

* * *

It was a warm afternoon, before Jon’s evening shift started, when they went up to the beachfront. They were closer to his part of the city, far from the beach club where she went with her family, she didn’t want to run into anyone she knew. Daario would be pissed if he found out through someone else that she was hanging out with another man. But they weren’t doing anything wrong…couldn’t married people go for a stroll with someone from the opposite sex? Just strolls were okay, friendships with someone from the opposite sex were okay, but she knew she wanted more with Jon. Maybe her intentions were what made her so anxious. When she caught herself staring at his smile or texting him all day, she wished something else would happen. But people around them can only see the outside, not intentions, so she breathed to calm down such an irrational fear. Even if she had the back luck for someone she knew to see them, there wasn’t a crime to accuse her of.

They sat down on a wooden bench on the footpath, as the beach stretched in front of them. She handed him her phone with her Instagram profile, now full of pictures of her paintings, which she had been eagerly waiting to show him face to face.

“I’m using a lot of hashtags,” she said. “I also posted them on an online gallery.”

“That’s perfect. Send me the link. I’ll tell my boss to send it around other restaurant owners to see if anyone wants any murals or paintings. It’s easier to sell to businesses, I think.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I appreciate that, really.”

When she put her phone back into her purse, he pointed out she had brought with her a sketchbook in it as well.

“Yeah, I always carry one in my purse, especially if I’m going to the beach.” Seascapes were her favorite scenery to paint. “It’s difficult to draw when I go out with my kids, though. They’re too active. I can’t focus.”

“I haven’t seen you paint in so long. Or…draw.”

She smiled. “What are you suggesting?”

“At least a quick sketch,” he grinned.

He didn’t even have to insist. She took her sketchbook and a piece of charcoal out of her baggy purse. She started sketching the two horizontal lines: the horizon of the sea, the limit of the sea and the sand. Then, the roots of the waves, tall, rocky mountains on either side. Their concentration was evidenced in their long silence and the absence of a need to fill it. It increased her awareness of his gaze in her hands, though, the ones he had called pretty just a few days ago.

“How the hell can you sketch so quickly?” He chuckled.

“Do you have any idea how many seascapes I’ve drawn in my life?” She smiled.

When she drew a lighthouse, he asked, “What’s that? I don’t see any lighthouses out here.” He looked around them.

She stopped moving the charcoal and looked up at him with a smile. “Don’t you realize?”

He shook his head. She only chuckled and kept the mystery to herself. She drew chairs and tables on the first plane, on the beachfront and he said, “Oh. White Harbor.” She nodded. What she left. What they left. “I didn’t recognize it quickly. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she replied. “It brings a lot of memories, doesn’t it? The beach.” She looked at the scenery before her, searching for new elements to draw.

“What like the time we—” he trailed off and laughed.

She spanked his arm jokingly. “I wasn’t talking about that.”

He laughed. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s impossible to forget,” she said with a laugh.

The beach. Them. It was the same scent, the same sounds of the waves, of the seagulls. Only on a different coast.

Jon said, “We always ate in front of the sea, I cooked seafood, you painted the sea…we always sat on those shitty metal chairs, remember? And you always took your books to read there. All those classics, those epics, those ancient books with a vocabulary I could barely understand.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, many of the best stories take place at the sea. The Odyssey, The Aeneid, Moby Dick…”

“You still read?”

“Every once in a while I do.”

“A lot of the books you didn’t bring with you are also still in the North, by the way. There are boxes full of your stuff.”

“Thanks. If I ever go there, I’ll bring them back. Thank you for keeping my stuff and for bringing some paintings to King’s Landing. It’s such a lovely gesture.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing compared to everything you’ve done for me in those years.”

“Sorry to bring this up," she said. "I don’t know if it’s too intruding but it’s important for me. How’s your depression going? Are you doing better?”

“I’m better, yes. Therapy helped me a lot and so did keeping myself busy in the kitchen, especially during tough times—when we broke up, when my father died…"

She stopped moving the charcoal. “Oh gods, when was that?”

“Almost seven years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wish I could’ve been there for you.” It slipped out. Perhaps she was getting too intimate, but she meant it.

“Thank you.” He paused to take a breath before saying, “I don’t know if this might sound inappropriate, given that you’re married now, but I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. When I look back, what I remember the most, and what I value the most, is your support. When my depression was so bad I wanted to die, you were always there. When I didn’t have the guts to drop out of engineering, you kept on making me see good in things that weren’t just money. Or when I became sort of…curious to try a number of drugs to numb my sorrows...you kept me on track. You were iron-handed, yes, we fought, yes, but sometimes taking care of the other is calling them out like that. And during our break-up, despite it being a long process of a year and a half, I didn’t take the time to properly thank you for all the love and care. You saved me…multiple times.”

It took her a moment to take in all his words. How good it felt that even after all this time, he still remembered and appreciated all those actions. And just a minute ago she had thought she was the one who had been getting too intimate!

“And so did you with me. You don’t have to thank me ‘cause…that’s love, isn’t it?” She thought out loud, turning the charcoal in her hand. “It’s more than…good sex, more than fun times together. It’s the time you took care of my broken heel carefully, when my family went through shit and you were there, _always, _even though I was angry at everyone and annoying as fuck…but you knew me…and you knew there was pain behind my anger and were always willing to be by my side during my healing. Or the time I…sorry to bring this up, but how could I forget?” she chuckled.

“What?” He smiled.

“The time I got the _worst_ food poisoning of my life and I was sitting on the toilet while you were—”

“Squatting in front of you, holding a bucket while you threw up in it—”

“While I was shitting my soul out at the same time.”

He laughed out loud. “I remember well. It was probably my food.”

“No, it wasn’t...we ate street food in a super sketchy place. We were quite reckless back then. We ate _everything._” He laughed. “But really. It’s been a while, but I’m eternally grateful.”

“Me too.”

That was the thing with love. One moment one needed help. Then, the other needed help. No human being was permanently safe from vulnerability. People need help and company—from a parent, a lover, a child, a friend—and all those different types of love had a common factor: caring for the other and paying attention to them. Sometimes it was the need to be taken care of when sick, sometimes it was the need to talk and be listened, sometimes it was the need to do activities they loved…but one could not help the other if they didn’t pay attention to what they needed. Again, her husband came to her mind. Was that really love?

“Sorry for oversharing or getting emotional,” Jon said. “It’s just that I thought I’d never see you again. So I’m sort of trying to say what was left unsaid just in case we…” He cut himself off.

_Don’t see each other again? _Was that what he meant? Was that what he thought would happen?

“I’m glad you brought that topic up,” she said. “Those are memories I never want to forget. No matter how painful. And it’s not inappropriate. No one has ever cared about me that way again.” Another sentence that slipped out.

“You’ve been with other people? Or just Daario? I’m just curious,” he asked.

“Just Daario. And I guess you’ve dated other people, you’ve been in other…relationships?”

“Yeah, I’ve dated around.”

He was attractive. She knew it wouldn’t be hard for him to get women. She wanted to hold herself back from asking details, but couldn’t help the question: “Many women or…a few?”

He smiled and pursed his lips. “Many.”

“Really?” Her stomach turned, so she forced a joke to conceal her jealousy, “I didn’t take you for a womanizer.”

He chuckled nervously. She regretted letting out something so uncomfortable that shoved a silence in.

He pointed at her sketchbook. “So, the great White Harbor.”

“Yeah,” she blinked quickly and looked back down. She blurred with her finger a think line of charcoal to create the shadowing of the waves.

“I think you forgot something.” He slid his hand to the center of the drawing and with two fingers traced down a vertical line, brushing the side of her hand. The gentle friction sent a sharp electricity up her spine. “The dock,” he said quietly.

She chuckled softly. “Right.”

But she didn’t move her hand to draw it. He didn’t move his, either. She only broke the stillness by turning her palm towards him, slowly, and he did the same. Their fingertips met in a shy kiss, his were neat and hers were dark with charcoal. She was recovering his touch, so lost and forgotten over the years. But there was only silence, flooded by uncertainty. She was the married one. He was not going to do anything further. It was up to her to make another move, to intertwine her fingers with his, or to turn her head to his.

But she didn’t. Instead, she detached their fingertips and said, “I miss the North sometimes. King’s Landing is much prettier, there’s definitely more work opportunities here, and White Harbor’s a small city, grey and cold, _but_…I miss the life we had.” She pursed her lips, looking at the sea. “Gods…we were supposed to meet again. We kept postponing it and postponing it until…we had no other choice. Both our lives were established on different sides of Westeros.”

He sighed. “I should have chased you and worked as a cook in a McDonald’s here or whatever. You kept on telling me to put my job first.”

“As you told me to put mine first—I had a scholarship here, I had work opportunities here. We both cared about the other’s fulfillment. If you came for me and worked in a McDonald's, I would’ve held you back. If I had stayed with you, you would’ve held me back. There was just no way I could make a living out of art in the North. You know how dull and boring northerners are…no offense, though, not you.”

He chuckled. The waves danced, and their tune sympathetically filled the silence.

Jon cleared his throat and said, “It was an act of love, letting each other go… wasn’t it?”

His words shut her up. It was a familiar phrase, a familiar idea, but from where? She frowned in thought, staring at the sea. As they drew near, the waves pushed hints towards her: a story about the sea. The breeze that traveled all the way to them carried the memory of a romance at sea from a book she used to love. Of a man sitting at the beach, watching the waves, and crying.

“Do you remember The Odyssey?” she asked him.

“I remember you talking about it endlessly.”

“Do you remember Calypso?”

“The one who kept Odysseus on her island?”

“Yeah. She was in love with him and held him captive, even though he longed to go back to Ithaca. When Hermes came down to Earth to tell her to let Odysseus go, she refused. She loved him too much. But going back to Ithaca, to home, to his family, and reigning, was his biggest wish. _But she loved him, how could she let him go?_ she kept on saying.” She sighed, and lowered her gaze from the dark blue horizon to her black and white version of it. “In the end, not only she let him go, she even helped him build the raft for him to sail away. She loved him.” She took a pause to smile to herself and turned to watch Jon as he stared at the sea. “So she wouldn’t hold him back from what he wanted. Theirs used to be a passive love—there was only passion, not much action—but once she helped him grow and fulfill his destiny, that was an active love. That was an _act_ of love. The purest one she’d ever done.

“I think we’ve both felt that pain she felt when Odysseus left,” she went on, he turned to meet her gaze. “No doubt about it. But behind that pain…there was a little happiness, hiding there, some hope that the other was having a good life, right? I was always silently hoping you were the best chef in the North, even though I couldn’t be there to congratulate you as you won a Michelin star or to try your food after every experiment. It helped cease my pain.” She gave him a smile that he mirrored. “And I'm happy that you could migrate and find a good job—a sous chef!”

“Not a McDonald’s cook.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you have the life you wanted, too.” She sighed. She wanted a life as an artist. She wanted a life with him. “I didn’t want you to wait for me forever. I didn’t want you to keep yourself from meeting new people who could allow you to relive the experience of love, which takes you out of that pit hole of sadness that we were both in. I wish we could have waited for each other, but I didn’t want that for you.” He sighed. “I can’t deny I’m a little jealous of him,” he chuckled. She chuckled too. “But I’m glad you got married. Really. Love is healing. I’m glad you found it again.”

What had her relationship with Daario healed her from? Had it helped her grow in any way? Her kids’ love, though, the purest of them all, was indeed a source of healing, of strength. They were the only human beings who could inject her with an unmeasurable amount of happiness and motivation, and the reason why she didn’t fully regret moving to King’s Landing.

“Love is healing,” she agreed. “But it depends on the type of love. Calypso’s love wasn’t healing, not at the start, at least.”

“I don’t know if I could call that love,” he replied.

The Odyssey had been on a shelf in her corridor for years, almost forgotten, a story about nostalgia and recovering an identity. Calypso, Odysseus, Dido, Aeneas…those stories had been with her for so long, how could she not have linked them to her marriage? How could her need for affection have blinded her so much? Or was it that she didn’t wish to see what was in front of her eyes?

In front of her eyes now was a man she had loved for years and who had loved her back. Sadly, her life had changed to the point that loving him now would be unacceptable, but in this conversation, love was present again…and so was nostalgia, a wish to go back to the place in a paper between her hands and to a love like theirs.

He smiled to himself.

“What?” She asked him with another smile.

“You’re making me see in a different light a situation I used to think of as negative. As a mistake. But…even though it hurt…it wasn’t negative. It was the raft, it was making sure that the other would be able to fulfill their capacities.”

“I think it showed the strength of what we had,” she agreed. “I’m also seeing it in a different light now, after listening to you and remembering…” she trailed off…remembering that relationship which she had wished to forget for the survival of her marriage and family.

His lips trembled. “I looked for you for so long. Didn’t know in which corner you were hiding. I used to go to independent galleries, to the bohemian district, wondering if I might bump into you or your paintings.” He laughed sadly. “Only when I gave up and finally _fully _let go…you eventually came back.”

Her love for him resurfaced fiercely, taking a breath of life after having been pushed down into the depths of the ocean for years, struggling to survive. And so, she closed the space between their faces and their lips met, closed, in a uniting pressure. He opened his mouth and so did she, slowly, shyly. Was it their tenth thousandth kiss? Their millionth kiss? It felt like the first: the butterflies in the stomach, the tingling running up her arms, the shyness but the curiosity for more. But there was also sadness and grief for the life they could have had together, joy of being reunited. He turned his body to hers and she deepened the kiss, but he pulled away. In her entire life, ending a kiss had never hurt this much, she felt like a piece of metal desperate to be back against a magnet.

He shook his head. “No.”

“You’re right,” she replied, evading his gaze. 

He shook his head again. “No.”

“You’re right. This isn’t okay.” What had she done? She was a mother and a wife.

She looked around them again in search of witnesses. _‘People can only see the outside,’_ she had told herself a while ago. But the outside was now in tune with the inside. And it felt wrong.

“You’re married. We can’t cross the line. Sorry for leading you on…”

“No,” she frowned. “_I _was leading you on. I texted you first, late at night, and kept on doing so. I was the one who proposed to text each other through Snapchat for the messages to leave no trace behind.”

“But I took you to the market. I got you food. I complimented your hands…” Both chuckled, breaking the tension slightly. It seemed like neither had been able to hold themselves back. “I—I’m embarrassed. I shouldn’t have done all that,” he looked down at his hands, rubbing with his thumb the trails of charcoal on his fingertips. “When I saw you at the supermarket, I honestly wanted to talk to you and…see how you were doing. We haven’t seen each other for so long and I thought it would be good to meet up again.”

“No, it’s okay, don’t worry.” She shut her eyes, clueless of what was the right course of action now. “This just isn’t the type of woman I want to be, Jon. I’ve never cheated on him. I never cheated on you back then, either. I can’t slip…like this. I’ve always valued loyalty. You have, too. I’m not this kind of person…I don’t want you to _think_ I am this kind of person, I don’t want you to think so low of me.”

“I don’t think low of you,” he assured. “You’ve always been good.”

“You too. And it’s okay. I also wanted to see you, I…” She looked away for him not to see her shiny eyes, just in case a tear fell. “I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea.”

“Me too. So much. But you’re married, I get it. I meant it when I said I care about your happiness. So I don’t want to create any trouble in your life,” he replied, looking down.

_No_, she wanted to reply right away. She wanted to keep on seeing him, to kiss him again, to love him again.

But she only said, “I should go home now.”

It was the last thing she wanted, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do or say. She was a wife and a mother now. The past should stay in the past. She had to go back to the present, her responsibilities with her family awaited at home.

She had been the one who kissed him. She had expressed her desire for more. But what did _he _think about it? She knew Jon. When he was this speechless, it meant he was confused. And all these feelings and arguments tangled inside her increased her own confusion. “I should go home,” she repeated, and left.

Now, what felt wrong was walking away.

[Credits for the painting](https://artboost.com/petolas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are both confused and need some time on their own to get their thoughts straight. Jon won’t mess with a married woman so easily, no matter how bad he wants to. Dany doesn’t want to cheat on her husband, either. But they care about one another, so this affair won't start impulsively.
> 
> Sorry for talking about poop twice in this fic. But you don't know what love is until you've pooped/puked in front of your significant other and they've kept on loving you after seeing such a thing. Lmao.
> 
> Also, the number of people blaming Dany for the position she’s in worries me, saying that she "deserved" to be treated this way by Daario or that Jon doesn’t "deserve" her back. It shows victim blaming is real and motivates me even more to tell this kind of stories about abuse. 
> 
> And don’t worry, the first sex scene is quite near :)


	5. High Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you fear somebody, then [he] has power over you.” —Demian, Hermann Hesse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be an eventful chapter. The married couple will argue and fight and, I warn you, he'll try to have sex with her (TRY). Also, Jon and Dany will decide what will happen between them from now on.

Painting by Ivan Aivazovsky

* * *

Dany avoided herself in every mirror as she cleaned the house. What had she gotten into?

‘Whenever you want to talk about it, let me know,’ he texted her. ‘Or if you don’t want to, it’s also okay.’

‘I’ll call you later tonight.’ She didn’t want this to be discussed only by text messages.

If it had been difficult to get Jon out of her thoughts since they met at the supermarket, it was now impossible. Just the thought of that phone call made her palms sweat, it would be the moment to decide what would happen between them from now on. Would they have to cut communication _again? _Would they see each other every once in a while? Would they stay as friends only? Would they have an affair? She sighed. If they did, they could not go on forever. She had a family. They would have to cut communication at some point anyway, only a little later.

She and Daemon went over to pick Visenya up from her football practice, which reminded her again that she couldn’t daydream this way.

As she waited for Visenya to come out, she talked to the other parents about her paintings. They all asked her to send them her profile and followed her. She texted more people, the parents of Daemon’s friends, and a couple of people from the bank, even though Daario had already told her he would spread the word there. Arianne Martell even told her she had friends who were art enthusiasts, who had _more_ friends who were art enthusiasts, and would share Dany’s page with them. She wanted to share her excitement with Jon, but given the delicate situation they were in, she didn’t.

Dany was surprised when Margaery, Daario’s coworker, replied to her text saying she didn’t know about the paintings. _‘But send me your page! I’ll follow you right now,’_ she texted Dany.

When she got home, she couldn’t find a moment alone long enough to call Jon. She knew it would be a long talk and that it would probably require a box of Kleenex. And he was probably at work now. So it would have to be later.

But when Daario got home, it was even harder to make that call. Dany tried to be distant with him, fearing he could sense she had kissed another man or that _somehow_ he could find out. He arrived late, so Dany took his food upstairs to bed in a food tray.

He pulled her by the arm to press multiple kisses on the side of her face. “Thank you,” he said.

His tenderness boostedher guilt, so she let go of him and walked away into the bathroom to wash her face. She remembered what Margaery Tyrell had told her, so she asked him, “By the way, did you get to ask around if anyone wants to buy a painting?”

“Oh, uh…yeah,” he mumbled, “a bunch of them said that if they want any they’ll let me know.”

“Oh. Okay. ’Cause Margaery didn’t know…so, it’s weird…”

“Yeah, I forgot to tell her, I guess.”

He turned on the TV, but she kept on talking anyway. “So you told the people at the office but not her, whose office is right next to yours—”

“Geez! What are you? A prosecutor?” He cut his meat forcefully. “Stop interrogating me.”

“I’m just asking,” she said, rubbing some lotion on her arms.

“Okay, I’ll tell them tomorrow.”

“No need, I already did. I shared my profile with a bunch of them.”

“You talked to my coworkers?” He lowered the volume of the TV.

“Yeah. They’re my paintings, after all.”

“I guess,” he said, and put another piece of turkey in his mouth.

“Does it bother you?”

“It doesn’t.”

“It annoys you when I talk about it.”

He sighed. “I just don’t want you to go around telling everyone you’re selling stuff.” Dany frowned right away. “It makes us look as if we’re broke and need money desperately. You know, like when someone with a high charge loses their job and puts their car on sale, or his wife starts selling birthday cakes…”

“Daario, this is nothing like it. I’m not selling _stuff_, don’t denigrate my work like that.”

“I’m not denigrating _anything_. Go on, keep on painting. I just think it’s better if you didn’t go around much _selling_ things as if we needed the money. Especially to my coworkers.” He put another piece of meat in his mouth and chewed while watching the screen.

“Daario, _nobody_ thinks you’re broke. You just got promoted to a high charge and everyone around you knows you earn well.” He tried hard to show it off, too.

He stayed silent. He had said he had told ‘a bunch of people’ about her paintings, it was clear now that he hadn’t told anyone. Maybe he cared too much about what people said, but she was tired of doing so. She would keep on painting anyway.

“By the way, you’re buying food now?” he asked.

“Yeah. I need time to paint. This saves me up a lot of time.”

He pursed his lips. “You should ask me before making these choices. It’s my money.”

“I know…yeah. But the kitchen takes up so much time. And I bought this from a cheap place, not to spend much of your money.” He was earning more, anyway.

“Still. You gotta let me know what you spend my money in,” he pointed at his chest with the fork. “Also, you know the kind of diet I need. The amount of protein and all that. You don’t get that in restaurants.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know next time I buy food,” she said. She’d rather comply than go back to those times when he carefully controlled her expenses. “But this is such a time-saver for me. You have no idea. It allows me to paint much more.”

“But it tastes like shit,” he said, and raised the volume up.

Before she knew it was almost midnight, and she didn’t get the time to call Jon.

‘Hey, sorry, I had a long day,’ she texted him.

‘It’s alright. I didn’t text you ‘cause I didn’t want to seem too pushy. Do you want to talk now?’

‘My husband is here. We should probably talk tomorrow.’

‘Okay.’

'Sorry again, Jon.' 

“Oh gods, I’m so tired,” Daario groaned and lay back on the bed. Dany picked up his food tray and took it to the kitchen. When she went upstairs again, she stopped at the shelf with her books in the corridor. She ran her finger along them, until finding The Odyssey. She turned the pages, the mold on their edges evidenced its twenty years of age and its lack of usage. She read her annotations on the margins, searching for that scene, and there it was, in the fifth book: Odysseus leaving Calypso.

_‘Love — the other is first,’ _she had written in a margin. _‘She helped him grow, whether she’s there or not.’_ And at the end of the page, she wrote, _‘it is not possession.’ _She read it again. Her own words. A message from her past to present self.

She went back into the bedroom, the lights were off and Daario was asleep. She left the book on her nightstand, promising herself to reread it these following days, and got under the covers next to Daario.

_It should not be possession._

_ _

_Room in New York by Edward Hopper_

* * *

The following day, she got a text from Jon: ‘I’m working tonight till super late. My boss and I will have to stay a couple of hours after we close the restaurant. I think it’ll be complicated to talk tonight, at least with the extent this topic deserves. Sorry about that. But is tomorrow night alright for you? I _promise _I will be able to talk then.’

‘Yes, tomorrow’s okay,’ she replied.

She sighed. On the one hand, she didn’t want to have this conversation with him, fearing he’d reject her, but the uncertainty of the situation fed her anxiety even more. Another day with sweaty palms and a bouncing leg lay ahead.

At the bank, Margaery told the others at lunch what a great artist Daario’s wife was. Dany knew because Daario texted her the news right away: ‘Congratulations. Margaery is now your official PR manager. Do me a favor and learn to separate _my work _from _your hobbies. _We’ve talked about this yesterday.’

She swallowed her anger and served the kids their food. She and Visenya finished theirs but, as usual, Daemon hadn’t touched his vegetables. He pushed them in circles with his fork. Visenya was saying something about the game she had played on recess, but Daario’s voice in Dany’s head overshadowed hers. ‘_I just don’t want you to go around telling everyone you’re selling stuff._’ She may not be Van Gogh, as he had reminded her before, but that _stuff_ was hours of work, care, and creativity. Years of practice and education. 

She held back her tears and stood up, taking her and Visenya’s dishes.

“Finish your veggies, Daemon,” she said as she put them on the dishwasher.

His complaints were a blurry noise that couldn’t beat the ‘_my work _from _your hobbies’ _in her head.

“Mummy, can I go now?” Visenya asked. “Can I watch an episode of Spongebob on Netflix?”

“Yes,” she replied coldly.

“Me too, mummy!” Daemon asked. “Me too!”

“No. Finish your veggies,” she repeated as she dried some mugs.

“But mummy, I—”

“_Finish your veggies!” _She smacked the kitchen towel against her thigh._ “Every day _you make me go through the same. _Every. Day._ When are you gonna learn how to follow orders? I’m your mother! Do as I say! Do you have _any _idea of how much time it takes me every day to cook a balanced meal for you three, how much time that takes from other stuff I could be doing instead? And you always leave every healthy thing on your plate, Daemon. Finish your veggies or else you won’t get up from this table. If you have to stay here till next morning, _you will!_” She shouted, Daemon’s eyes teared up but she couldn’t stop. “And you’re certainly _not_ going to Ben’s birthday party on Saturday.”

Daemon cried, “No!”

“Mum, it’s important,” Visenya said. “There will be a magic show.”

“And we’re gonna binge-watch all Shrek movies!” Daemon begged with a red and damp face. “I really want to go!”

“I don’t _care _about what you want or don’t want to do. You’re turning into such a spoiled—” She groaned, shutting her eyes. “Finish. Your. _Vegetables!_”

Daemon cried harder as he bit the tip of an asparagus.

She avoided Visenya's judgmental gaze. A mother had to help her children grow, not hurt them more. A mother had to teach with her example. A mother had to master the art of hiding her inner pain to her children, but sometimes it slinked out, especially in situations that required patience and listening. Her tears had traveled from her to her son, and he was crying out loud what she couldn’t cry herself. Her life was centered on motherhood and wifehood, so when she failed at them, she felt like she failed in life. _And how good of a mother can I be if I’m miserable?_ She asked herself.

And to top it off, as if she wasn’t angry enough with her husband, that night she saw him taking a green box in his hand with a yellow crown in it out of his suitcase and putting it in his closet.

“Is that…is that a Rolex?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he said lightly.

She pursed her lips. “_Alright_.”

“What does that mean?” He asked. She stayed silent. “You know I have to be in super fancy meetings and gatherings now, I need to look better.” He shook his head. “No. I don't have to give you any excuses. It’s my money.” She kept on staring at him and he rolled his eyes. “I’ll get you a Rolex too next month.”

“I don’t want a Rolex,” she frowned, leaning back against the wall on the other side of the room. “Don’t you ever listen to me? Don’t you pay _any _attention? You make all the money and you want to buy cars and new watches instead of important stuff! You could spend a little more on a nanny or a maid…”

“Dany,” he held the space between his eyebrows, “I _wish_ I could spend more time with my kids. Do you know how much it hurts? They say that when you’re older, you regret not having spent enough time with your children, and _yet_, you _keep_ on complaining about it.” He untied his tie and asked her, “Don’t you love them?”

“Of course I do! How dare you?!” She was always scared of raising her own voice to him. But _how dare he. _“I spend a lot of time with them, but I just wish I could do some other stuff too.”

“You can still paint at home! I do so much for you. So much! Why the fuck do you have to whine all the time? I get home _exhausted _from working _for my family _and the _smallest _thing I ask is for you to treat me right. Why did you have to change so much?" He sighed. "I wish things could be the way they were before. You fucked it up…you _keep_ on fucking it up…”

“I fuck it up?! You’re the one who’s fucked everything up!”

“I get home to a wife that only whines and whines and whines…”

“You’re not the sweet, caring man I fell in love with!”

“_You _are not the woman I fell in love with!”

“You’re an inconsiderate husband!”

Dany and Daario always threw the blame at each other, back and forth, like a ticking bomb they wish would explode in the other’s hands.

“I do _so _much for you, Daenerys. So fucking much. You can’t do _one _thing without needing help?!”

“It’s not one thing! I'm the one who’s with them all day and has to clean the house and cook and pick them up from school and then take them to football practice or to the doctor or the dentist and then _try _to paint. I’m also exhausted!”

“_I’m_ the one who works _for_ them all day. Do you have any idea what it is to work in finance in an investment bank? You call work what you do?!”

“It is! It is! How can you not value this enough? How would your life be if your wife didn’t clean your house, wash your clothes, cook your dinner and raise your children! This is much more valuable than whatever the fuck you do in your bank! What the hell can you do besides that? Nothing!”

“Shut the _fuck _up!” He shouted, took The Odyssey from her nightstand and threw it at her. It went by next to her head and crashed against the wall. “Ungrateful, lazy bitch.”

She wanted to fire back, but only said, “Lower your voice. They’re gonna hear you.”

He rushed to her and cornered her against the wall. She looked down, silently, and tears slinked out. She hated herself for failing to hold them back. They signaled defeat.

“You’re gonna cry? Oh for fuck’s sake,” he exhaled. “You’re a specialist in playing the victim. A specialist! You have to teach me your ways, honestly, you have a talent. Why didn’t you choose drama school instead of painting?! Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing, though. You’re manipulating me to do whatever you want. As if you were the queen in here. You want to control me.”

“Control you?!” She looked up at him. Her eyebrows trembled as she frowned.

“Yes, control me. And this house. _Completely_.” His eyes widened in horror as he looked at the door. “Visenya!”

Dany turned and saw her daughter’s face sneaking in, holding the doorknob. “Visenya!”

Visenya ran away quickly and Dany chased her. She ran into her bedroom and tried to close the door but Dany held it and went in.

“Visenya! When our door is closed, don’t open it! You have to knock first. And don’t eavesdrop. The door is closed because we’re talking about grown-up stuff. Nothing that children can hear.”

Visenya cried, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, mummy.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

She cried desperately, so desperately it made her cough.

Yes, Dany was angry at her, but she couldn’t bear to see her crying like that after watching such a scene. She remembered the fear she felt when she was a child and saw her parents fighting. It was the last thing she wanted her kids to go through.

She kneeled on the floor and hugged Visenya. Visenya hugged her by the neck, sniffing hard. She wanted to break down as well and burst into tears in her daughter's arms. She wanted Visenya to comfort _her_. She had no one to share her troubles with, no shoulder to cry on. _No, _she told herself. _You’re her mother. Don’t cry. Be her strength._

“It’s alright, love,” Dany forced a sweet tone out of her throat. “You don’t have to worry.”

“He scares me…”

“Don’t be afraid.” Dany caressed the back of her head. “He’ll never do anything to you.”

“But…what about you?”

“I’m okay.” Dany kissed her damp cheek. “I’m okay.”

As usual, after a fight, Daario shut himself in his bedroom on his own. Like an angry sea, the waves attacked the shore and then ran away into their hideout, embarrassed.

‘He scares me,’ Visenya had told her. But it crossed Dany’s mind that maybe he was also scared. Maybe…this show he put on every time she brought up her own work was a manifestation of his fear of losing her, because his excuses were bullshit, they seemed too trivial to be true: _you’ll hang out again with your stoner friends, you’ll leave the kids behind, they will be raised by another person, people will think we’re broke_…There had to be more behind that.

“Let’s go to bed, love,” Dany told her. She got into bed with Visenya, leaving her night lamp on. They lay side by side, staring at each other. Visenya’s tears had started to cease but her eyes were still red. Dany placed her hand on the side of her small face, caressing her cheek with her thumb, watching herself as a child in front of her.

“Everyone says you look just like me,” Dany told her with a smile. Visenya smiled back.

“And you look like grandma.”

They had inherited much from their mothers, but how bad Dany hoped that when Visenya grew up, she knew better about love than her mother and grandmother did. She kissed repeatedly Visenya’s head and told her it was time to sleep.

She got a text from Daario. ‘You made me look bad in front of her. Now she’s going to think I’m the bad guy, when it’s your fucking fault.’

She endured all of Daario's fits and rages with her head down for them not to get out of their bedroom and reach her children, but in many ways, sometimes through him, sometimes through her, they inevitably did. In moments like these, Dany wanted to call and talk to her mother, ask for her advice, for her help. But it was embarrassing to confess to her that she knew no course of action to save her marriage, to confess that she might have always been wrong and Rhaella might have always been right. Just admitting it to herself was embarrassing.

She looked at Jon’s text in the dark._ ‘I think it will be complicated to talk tonight, at least to the extent this topic deserves.’_

Why did she have to be with this man instead of Jon? She wanted him back in her life, but she didn’t want to be a cheater. Should she let Jon go again, then? It had felt wrong to kiss him, but it had also felt wrong to walk away. She would have to use better arguments in her head than just feelings, relying on them hadn’t helped her much throughout her life.

She had to choose for the following night if she wanted this to go on or not, and so did he.

And that night she could not sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Dany fought against her eyelids to keep them up as she served the kids breakfast. Daemon was talking about the skills of the Incredible Hulk but Visenya was only staring at her food without listening.

“And do you remember that scene?!” Daemon asked her with a grin. “It was my favorite moment!”

Visenya only nodded. Daemon finished his food before her, maybe for the first time in his life, and sat in the living room to play with the iPad while he waited for her to be done.

“Honey, aren’t you gonna finish?” Dany asked her while she put snacks in their lunchboxes, but Visenya’s only reply was a tear falling down her cheek. “Hey,” Dany walked to her and placed a kiss on her head. She whispered, “It’s fine. It’s all okay. Believe me. It’s okay. Don’t worry.” But Visenya stayed silent and only sniffed. “Don’t worry,” Dany repeated, hugging her against her stomach. “_Don’t worry,_” this time, she sang it, “a_bout a thing, ‘cause every little thing is gonna be alright._”

But Visenya still didn’t change her expression, so Dany put [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LanCLS_hIo4) on her phone and connected it to the Bluetooth speakers.

_“Don’t worry!” _she sang again and carried Visenya to the living room. _“About a thing! Cause every little thing’s gonna be alright!”_

Visenya stood up on the couch as well and Dany took her her hand, lifted it to the air and Visenya turned on her place with a tiny smile. Daemon laughed and joined them, standing on the couch. _“Rise up this morning, smiled with the rising sun,”_ Dany sang, as she raised Visenya’s hands to the air and they danced clumsily, _“three little birds pitch by my doorstep,”_ she danced with Daemon now, _“singing sweet songs of melodies pure and true, saying, this is my message to youuu!” _Dany took him by the hands and moved their arms from side to side, making them laugh.

Pain, distress, and a sleepless night were pressing down her shoulders, but none of that mattered if her children needed strength.

“Don’t worry!” Daemon sang too. “About a thing!”

And Visenya finally sang: “'_Cause every little thing's gonna be alright._”

“You’re a great dancer!” Dany told Visenya, who hadn’t danced since a girl from her class had told her she couldn’t and they got into a fight. Dany hadn’t sung in a while, either, even though she loved to.

“Mummy, we’re gonna be late for school!” Daemon told her.

“No problem,” she said. “Today’s an exception, because you need more hugs and kisses than usual!”

She hugged them both and kissed Visenya’s cheek, then Daemon’s, then Visenya’s, then Daemon’s. The glow of their smiles was like stars shining in a dark night.

* * *

Daario arrived at night with Lego sets of Jurassic World and Star Wars for the kids, and for Dany, with a bouquet of tulips with an inscription that read _‘to the best mother and wife in the world’_. He spent the rest of the evening sitting on the ground with them, playing with the Lego blocks until their bedtime.

And here they were again, these addictive oases of love in the middle of the dry desert their marriage had become: the moments she had held onto for years, the traces of the man she had fallen in love with years ago. But she was always out of reach of this promised relationship that never came. The only way for him to always be this nice was to avoid any argument possible and show him affection. So, she tried to push away her anger and accepted the flowers with a smile and a kiss to his lips and laughed with the three of them throughout the evening.

“Daddy, why do you have to travel for so long?” Daemon asked Daario, hugging him by the neck as he tucked him into bed.

“So long? I’ll only be away for four nights, son.”

“But I want to keep on playing with you.”

But Visenya wasn’t so loving when he tucked her into bed.

“Goodnight, dad,” she only said. Dany watched them from the door, behind his back.

“Goodnight, princess,” he replied. “Look, about what you saw last night…I shouldn’t have talked that way to your mother,” he said quietly. “I lost my temper and I regret it, and I hope you can forgive me and try to forget what you saw.” Dany pursed her lips, looking at the ground. “I love you so much.” He kissed her forehead.

“I love you too,” said Visenya. “Thank you for the Legos.”

And once he and Dany were alone in their bedroom, he started his speech.

“I don’t appreciate enough what you do and I’m sorry about that,” he told her, putting a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to react this way. I get so stressed at work. My assistant is a damn gen Z who thinks I won’t realize he spends all day on his phone…”

“You threw a book at me.” She didn’t give a damn about his assistant.

“I’m sorry, I was so stressed out. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

She stayed silent at the deja vu: the fights, the regret, and a few weeks of bliss and peace…before falling back into fights. _It won’t happen again: _a phrase she was tired of hearing. How could she believe it?

“You’re a wonderful mother,” he said as he ran his hands down her arms. “Sometimes I criticize you too much for your mistakes, but you’re the one who can raise them better. You better than anyone else.” Dany stayed silent and crossed her arms. “Gods, I love you. And I don’t want this to be such a burden for you. Seriously, I’m doing this for you. Raising kids _plus_ working? I hear women at work saying that it’s too much, such a heavy load. They can’t raise them the way they want to. I’m not telling you not to paint. At all. You’re great. I’m just scared that you’ll leave out the kids for it.”

“I won’t.”

But he went on anyway, “Look, if you’re not the most important influence in their lives, someone else will be: a stranger, someone with different values and morals. I don’t think anyone could have raised me better than my mother. If children aren’t the most important part of their mother’s life, what are you telling them about their value? Earning money is good, yes, but raising children, raising future adults, is more important.”

‘You’re contradicting completely what you said yesterday,’ she wanted to retort. He had explicitly told her his job was more important. But she stayed silent. If she complied, this would be over more quickly.

“There’s a limited amount of hours in a day,” he went on. “How many hours of mothering will work take from you? Will you only be with them at the end of the day, for dinner and to play for a little while? How is that parenting?” He needed to ask himself that question more than she did. “Just…not yet, alright? Not yet.”

She sighed. _Not yet:_ she was scared there wouldn’t be an end for those words.

“You don’t get it—“

“I do, I do,” he said calmly, caressing her shoulders with his thumbs. “I don’t like it when we fight. There’s no use to it. Okay?” He asked quietly.

She looked down and only nodded. He smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth and then her lips, running his hands down her hips. She stayed still like a stone. But he started unbuckling his belt, anyway.

If she kept him pleased, he would keep on being this sweet with her and the kids. And she always worked hard for it. Cooking for him. Doing his laundry. Cleaning his house. Greeting him with a smile and a kiss on the lips. Having sex when she didn’t want to. But now…now she didn’t want to comply. Not this time. _If I have sex with him, I’m forgiving him, _she thought.

“Not now,” she said.

“Why?” He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Not now. I have a new routine at the gym and the back of my knees and thighs is sore.”

“You can lie down in bed,” he kissed her neck. “I’ll do all the work.” She shook her head. He traced his kisses up to her cheek. “Come on,” he caressed her waist, “before I travel.”

“Not now, Daario,” she repeated, and pushed his chest softly.

He sighed and turned around, holding the nape of his neck as he paced around the room. “I work _so_ hard, this is the least I ask—the least I’d like to do.”

‘Sorry,’ she wanted to say, but didn’t.

At the start, they had sex often. She mistook this active sex life, this need to always be united, for love. But maybe its recurrence and passion did not reflect their love, but their loneliness. Both were seeking for _someone else_, for company and affection. Now, sometimes, she did like to have sex during those times of calm and bliss, but even though for its duration the act was filling, afterwards, the feeling of fusion crept away, careless of their wish for it to remain.

However, when she felt mistreated, she didn’t want him to even touch her. She went to her children’s bedrooms until he fell asleep to avoid his attempts to start anything. They were scared of the dark often, so they welcomed her happily every time. But that wasn’t always the case. Sometimes she had sex to comply and to keep peace, and the more she did, the less she enjoyed sex the following times. It felt emptier and more disconnected.

He lay down in bed and asked her to get in as well. It was still early, but he wanted to cuddle while watching TV. She did so but stayed still while he placed his head on her shoulder and hugged her by the stomach. But the image of the book flying across the room hit her back. _Ungrateful, lazy bitch. _Isolation from her loved ones. No support to be able to work. She didn’t want to show him any affection, she didn’t want to accept his apologies. And, once again, the wish to be sleeping next to Jon instead of Daario came back. _Jon_. She gasped and freed herself from Daario’s embrace. She had to call Jon tonight.

“What?” Daario asked.

“I…I had almost forgotten!” she said. “I…I gotta go to the store before it closes. I forgot to buy fruits for breakfast tomorrow.”

He sat up. “I’ll go.”

“No, I’m better at choosing mangoes and avocados and all that. It’s fine, I’ll go. You’re tired.”

“Alright, take the credit card.” His wallet was in his nightstand and he took his card out. Dany walked to him and before she could grab the card, he hid it inside his palm. “Give me a kiss.” She hesitated and forced her body to lean down and her mouth to press a tiny kiss to his lips. He handed her the card. “I love you,” he told her, making her uneasy.

She drove to the supermarket. She had to buy those things anyway for him to believe she was going out for that. She didn’t even choose the fruits, she took the first ones she saw and rushed to the cash register, tapping the floor with her foot quickly as she waited. She rushed back to her car and sat down to breathe deeply in the dark. Was she sure of what she wanted to get into?

_‘This isn’t okay,’_ she had told Jon after they kissed. But why shouldn’t it be okay? Because of a paper she signed with another man? Because that man was the father of her children? What about the way that man treated her? His lack of respect and attention towards her and her needs? Did she owe him her undying loyalty and respect because of a goddamn signature?

_‘This isn’t okay’._ The way Daario treated her certainly was not okay. Why was she putting him, then, over Jon?

She stared at his phone number on her phone screen. She wanted to be with him. But she wasn’t a cheater. Daario had _no idea _about the number of men that flirted with her at the gym, that smiled at her when she met their gaze, the number of _gorgeous _men she ignored or turned down for _him_. But this was different, wasn’t it? This wasn’t driven by lust. This was love, the undying love she would always have for Jon.

But her damn morals held her finger in the air, unwilling to let it fall over Jon’s number. She should break up with Daario and _then _start seeing other people instead of lying to him. It was the right thing to do. But how the hell would she leave him? If a divorce was a long and complicated process in a regular marriage, in a marriage like _theirs _it would be eternal…no, Daario wouldn’t even let her go. He would hold onto her for dear life, because without her and the kids, his life would be empty. And if he got this angry over trivial arguments, she didn’t even want to imagine how he would get if she told him she wanted to leave him. And she had no money of her own, how could she leave?

She held the space between her eyes. _What am I gonna do? I'm a wife. I’m a mother. _But she was tired of reducing herself to those tags. She was more than just a mother. She was a painter, a reader…and a woman in love. It seemed selfish to her to put herself first. Everything she did, she did it for her children. They were the center of her universe. They had to be first. Motherhood was a sacrificial job. Giving and giving and giving. Loving was giving. But giving to herself, loving herself, why did that have to be wrong? Couldn’t she be the center of her own universe for at least a little while?

The image of her shouting at Daemon to finish his vegetables came back to her. She sighed, did her happiness and her children’s have to be a dichotomy? She was miserable when they were miserable, and vice versa. If she could allow herself to be happy for a while, to feel loved for a while, just in secret, it wouldn’t be so bad for them, would it?

Her finger trembled in the air, above Jon's number. This would be an affair, then. Gods, but what if Daario found out? And what would people say? Daario’s wife’s a cheater, Daario’s wife left him for another guy. _Daario’s wife_…why did she keep on seeing herself only as ‘Daario’s wife’? Jon made her feel more than just a mother and a wife, while Daario strived to reduce her to those two. 

_‘I should go home now,’_ she had insisted after their kiss. But she felt much more at home with him than in her husband’s house. Would she be a fool not to take this opportunity and lose him again?

_Bam._ Her thumb pressed his phone number. There was no way back now. She exhaled deeply as she waited for him to pick up.

“Dany?” Jon said.

“Jon,” Dany said. “Sorry I couldn’t call you before. These have been…crazy days…”

“It’s okay. I didn’t know if I should call you…I never know if he might be around or not.”

“It’s okay.” She cleared her throat. “Um…can you talk now?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Okay, um…we’ve crossed a line, right?” She swallowed. “But I wanna know how you really feel about this, and what you really want to…happen between us…from now on.”

“_Want_…” he said. “Should we only talk about what we want? Or about what we should or should not do? Because what I want…Gods, Dany, there is _so much _I want since I saw you again, from cooking weird shit for you to sleeping by your side. But that’s naive as hell. You have a family now. If we keep on seeing each other, I’ll be a source of worry in your head, wouldn’t I? Now, for you to make this call, I guess you’ve had to hide in a corner of your house. I’m a worry in your life right _now_, am I not? And I’m sorry about that, I feel terrible about it. If we keep on going, this worry will keep on escalating. I don’t want to make you miserable.”

“_Jon_,” she exhaled. “I’d be more miserable if I can’t be with you again. I’ve felt like…like a part of me has come back.”

He sighed. “Me too. I’ve felt exactly the same.”

“You’ve opened my eyes about…things you don’t even know…”

“For better, I hope,” he said, she could hear his smile behind his voice.

“Yes,” she giggled.

“You’ve done the same. That talk we had at the beach, it was potent. It even made me reflect on my father’s death and letting go. You…you’ve always been smarter than what you give yourself credit for.” He sighed. “But you’re married. We’ve never cheated. I’ve never dated a taken woman either.”

She sighed. _‘But we could keep on hanging out as friends,’ _she was about to say, but she knew that couldn’t be true. They both had made clear they still had strong feelings for one another.

“Another reason why I’ve never messed with a taken woman is that I always try to follow the rule of not doing to others what I don’t want them to do to me. I wouldn’t want anyone to mess with a girlfriend of mine, so I don’t want to do that to your husband.”

“But you’re not doing it _to_ my husband. It’s just between me and you. He…he doesn’t _own_ me!” Her own words made her pause in surprise. “I want to do this.”

“Me too, me too, so much.” He breathed. “You have no idea how much I care about you, Dany.”

“And so do I about you. We can’t just say farewell again, can we?”

“Gods,” he exhaled. She knew that conflicted tone. “But what if this hurts you? If letting go can be an act of love…then letting you go for you to be happy with your family, instead of creating another burden in your life, could be an act of love too, right?”

“No.” She replied quickly. “Not this time. It was an act of love before, when letting go led to the other’s fulfillment. Now, leaving me won’t make me happier. Jon, hear me out. You won’t make my life more miserable, you would make my life _so_ much better…” her voice broke, she breathed deeply to keep herself from crying, “so much better, if we…” she dodged the word cheat, “if we…keep on seeing each other. It’s not like I have a perfect life right now and you’ll fuck it up, at all. I’m sorry for this lack of information. It would be better if I just told you everything, that way you might understand better what I mean. But trust me, you know me better than anyone, you know I wouldn’t be saying this if it weren’t that way.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

“This isn’t about my kids, this isn’t about my husband, it’s about me and you,” she repeated. Jon stayed silent at the end of the line. It only worried her more. “I’m not begging, Jon. If morality is weighing you down, I won’t insist, you can let me know and we can both go our own way, maybe text each other once every few months, to know the other is alive and well, and nothing more. I won’t beg you to do something you don’t want to do.” She could hear his footsteps as he paced, definitely in circles like he always used to. “I’m not asking you to make a choice now. But I want you to have a clearer picture of my stance before deciding. I know you’re a good man. This isn’t right for any of us. I actually feel… embarrassed to tell you that I want to see someone else while married.”

“Don’t be.”

She nodded. “I have my answer, which is _yes, _I want to keep on seeing you. But I won’t demand an answer from you now. This is a situation we never thought we’d be in, so think this through carefully and call me when you decide.”

“I have my answer,” he said.

She held her breath and tightened her damp hand around the phone. “Wha—what is it?”

“I won’t walk away while you’re hurting,” he said firmly. She exhaled with her eyes closed and a smile. “I don’t know what you’re going through. To be honest, you’ve been quite mysterious these times we’ve been together, I know very little of your life. I won’t ask you to tell me more about it, not if you aren’t ready. But I can tell something’s not okay. You barely paint, you’ve left your usual habits behind, you put a ton of makeup on to hide the bags under your eyes but I _know_ how swollen they look after you cry.” He sighed. “I don’t know where this thing between us will go. I don’t know if it will end tragically…_again… _but I trust your judgment and it will _obviously _be worth the try.”

Silence. She was happy. Nervous too, this wouldn’t be easy. But happy.

“Dany?” he asked.

“Okay,” she said in a tiny voice. “Yes.” What was there to say after arranging an affair?

“Alright.” He exhaled. “Where are you, by the way?”

“In the parking lot at the supermarket.” She giggled.

“Do you want me to meet you up?”

“I gotta get back home. My husband’s probably wondering why am I taking so long to get back.”

“Nah, he might be asleep. Don’t you say he wakes up at like five every morning?”

“Yeah. But I gotta get back home, anyway.”

“Yes, do so.”

“But…” she said, as she turned on the car. “But tell me something funny to distract me and keep me company on these few minutes back home.”

“Alright. Um…my neighbor’s cat broke into my flat yesterday.”

“What?!” She laughed. “How?”

“I left a window open when I went to work. When I came back, the kitchen was a mess!”

He kept on talking about it until she said, “Okay, I’m arriving at my place now. I have to hang up.”

“No, wait!” he exclaimed. “There’s something else I have to say.”

She giggled. “What?”

“I hope that things can get better for you. I, for one, know you can endure anything. And remember what you always told me: life is better than the way you’re seeing it right now.” She smiled. She used to tell him so when he was depressed. “There’s so much around you to love, so much that can lift you up despite all the shit that may be going on.” Her children, she thought, and him. “Don’t let a bunch of negative things take over you.”

“Thank you, Jon,” she said with a smile.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied. “Alright, I won’t keep you here any longer. So, see you…soon? Let me know when you want to meet up again.”

“Sure,” she looked up at her bedroom window from outside. The lights were off. “What about Saturday?”

“Perfect, do you want to go out? Oh, you should totally come over to the restaurant. You will _love _the chef’s recommendations, which, actually, are the sous chef’s recommendations.” He chuckled.

“I would love to eat your food again.” She pursed her lips. “But my husband's about to travel and, if you want, you could come over…and we’ll cook something together.”

And with his agreement, their affair started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a challenge. There were many things I wanted to write before the ‘let’s cheat’ talk: showing Daario as a dick again but also show his soft side (which has kept Dany bound to him for years), Dany’s worry to be a good mother but sometimes failing—as every mother does sometimes—and the children…the children always get affected when something goes on between their parents: either by witnessing something, like Visenya, or indirectly, by receiving a harsh treatment like Daemon at dinner. Sometimes I worry about being overdramatic, but Daario's character is inspired by people I know, and much of his dialogue and behavior is real stuff that I'm just adapting to this character. 
> 
> JON AND DANY WILL BANG NEXT CHAPTER!!! And Daario is traveling so we won’t have to keep up with his ass for a while, and Jon and Dany will have a bunch of chapters for themselves only. I'm already excited about the number of romantic scenes that will flood your screens, starting the next chapter. 
> 
> “Why doesn’t she just leave?” This is a question usually made by people who haven't been in a relationship like this one. Economic dependence isn't the only thing that ties you to a partner. Abuse is gradual, and it messes with your mind to the point of thinking that you might be at fault and you are the one who must change in the relationship for it to work out. You become so attached to your partner, emotionally, that leaving isn't a simple decision. This chapter, though, Dany has started to realize that she isn't the one at fault and doesn't deserve such a treatment.
> 
> The inner conflict about cheating has not ended here, ofc, it will increase as things get more serious.
> 
> Eager to read your feedback and opinions!
> 
> [Some relevant statistics:](https://www.thehotline.org/resources/statistics/)  
-More than 1 in 3 women (35.6%) and more than 1 in 4 men (28.5%) in the United States have experienced rape, physical violence and/or stalking BY AN INTIMATE PARTNER in their lifetime.  
-43% of dating college women report experiencing violent and abusive dating behaviors including physical, sexual, tech, verbal or controlling abuse.  
-A child witnessed violence in 22% (nearly 1 in 4) of intimate partner violence cases filed in state courts.  
-“Emotional abuse and controlling behaviors are closely linked to physical violence by partners. In all countries, a majority of women who experienced physical violence in the past 12 months also reported emotional abuse, ranging from 61.1 percent in Colombia to 92.6 percent in El Salvador.” [(source)](http://www.paho.org/hq/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=8175&Itemid=1519&lang=en)


	6. Anagnorisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap took me a while because it’s super sexy and romantic. I hope you enjoy it!  


[Credits for the painting](https://www.artsy.net/artist/martine-emdur)

* * *

On Saturday afternoon, Dany dropped her kids off at their friend’s birthday party and waited for Jon to arrive at her place. She had braided her hair and wore a simple jumper with jeans, but wore no earrings, necklace, nor rings this time. When she heard the doorbell, she took a deep breath before opening the door. Jon stood before her with a smile and a cooler in his hands.

He followed her to the kitchen as she tried to make small talk to hide her anxiety. They rolled up their sleeves and washed their hands on the sink.

“So, Dany, out of all the cool recipes I could cook for you, you settle for fish on béchamel sauce.”

She chuckled. “My children are lactose intolerant. I don’t eat it this often anymore.”

However, she had chosen an easy recipe to cook quickly, because there was something else that she hoped they would do afterwards.

“Let’s start with the potatoes,” he told her. “They’ll take a while to be ready.”

He chopped red potatoes in half while she chopped the mushrooms.

“You’ve gotten faster, Dany.” He smiled. 

“I cook every day, Jon. You’ve gotten faster too, impossibly.”

_Jon, Dany, Jon, Dany._ His name had abandoned her mouth for years, saying it out loud felt like a reality check: yes, they were together, yes, this was real. She guessed it was the same for him too.

The muscles in his arm tensed and relaxed as he pressed the knife down to cut the potatoes. She averted her eyes before he caught her staring. He poured olive oil, salt and pepper on the potatoes and put them in the oven.

“I’ll cook the sauce and you fry the fish?” he asked her, taking the fillets out of the cooler.

She poured oil on the saucepan and he poured milk on his. She watched every movement of his and felt his gaze on her, too.

“I’m nervous,” she confessed with a smile.

“Why?”

“I feel judged by you. You’re so much better at this.” She chuckled as she placed the first fillet on the pan.

“It’s fine, no,” he said. “You’re a good cook. Give me a paintbrush and I’ll make a mess.”

She laughed. “Well, Jackson Pollock’s paintings are a mess and they’re worth like a hundred million bucks.”

“Oh Gods,” Jon chuckled. “I may have a better future as a painter than as a chef, then.”

He placed a bayleaf on the milk.

“You brought bayleaf?” she asked. He really thought every detail through.

“Yeah, it gives it a great taste and scent,” he said. “Now, some nutmeg.”

He didn’t measure anything. He just had a hunch of the right amount of nutmeg, of pepper, of salt. He tried a sip and added some more if needed.

He turned up the heat until the milk started boiling. “Let’s wait five minutes now.”

“Do you want me to set an alarm?” She asked as she turned the fillet in her saucepan.

He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“The fish is done, I think,” she said, hoping she hadn’t screwed anything up.

He stabbed it with a fork. “Perfect. I’ll have to use this saucepan as well.”

“Oh, I need a dish, by the way,” she said.

“Where are they?”

“That cupboard.” She pointed at it with her finger.

She watched his body movements as he squatted to take one out. When he handed it to her, their fingers brushed.

She moved the fillets from the saucepan to the dish.

“All yours,” she said, handing him the saucepan. Their hands quickly met again as they exchanged the handle. She pursed her lips to keep a smile from blooming.

“Now I’ll make the _roux_.”

With a low heat, he melted butter on the pan, spinning it slowly. Her gaze was stuck in his forearm and its veins as he moved it. He added the milk to the mix.

_How would his hands feel on her body?_ she wondered as he held the pan firmly and threw flour in it. Gods, his fingers were talented, and not only when it came to cooking. They were in her house on their own. They weren’t just going to cook and eat together.

He took the bayleaf out of the milk and threw it away, he tasted it, stayed still for a couple of seconds and then nodded. He made her try it too, staring at her lips while she blew on the spoon in his hand and then sipped it. “It’s good.”

He lowered the heat and poured the mushrooms on the saucepan. She kept on stirring it in his absence.

After a while, she asked, “How's the texture going? My arm is getting tired.”

When she used to tell him that, he used to reply with a _‘You must strengthen your arm muscle then, I’ve heard handjobs are great for it.’ _But this time, he only said, “I’ll go on,” and took the spoon from her hand, brushing it again. “If we let it sit for too long, it’ll harden.”

When it was done, he poured the sauce on each fillet and placed two parsley leaves over them. He put the dishes on the dining table and said, “Bon appétit.”

She served two glasses of wine and they sat down, but before they started, he gasped and said, “The potatoes!”

He pushed his chair back and rushed to the oven.

“_Sous chef_ Jon! How could you have forgotten?!” Dany jested.

He chuckled awkwardly. “This never happens. You were distracting me.” She had forgotten too for the same reason. Her mind was mainly on him, secondarily on the food. He turned off the oven and stabbed the potatoes with his fork and sighed. “They’ll be a bit more crispy than usual.”

He took them out, quickly cut more parsley and poured it over the potatoes. Meanwhile, Dany moved her chair closer to his.

“Okay, finally,” he said, serving the potatoes on each dish. “Now, dinner’s finally ready.”

He sat back down. They cut their fish and he stared at her putting it in her mouth and chewing.

“How is it?” He asked as his eyes moved from her mouth to her eyes.

She hummed, chewing. “I love it. Go on, try it.”

He did so and nodded with a frown. “Not bad.”

“Not bad? The sauce is perfect.”

“Yeah, it’s good. But I think I can do better, you kept on distracting me,” he said again with a laugh.

A silence filled the room as they ate, only partially covered by the sound of the movements of their cutlery.

“So,” Dany said, “did you get to create that vegan dish you were talking about?”

“It’s almost done, I think. I showed it to my boss the other night and he liked it. I’m tired, I’ve been staying up till late at night trying to come up with it, and reading and studying about vegan ingredients and all that. You know how it is, when your job is to create, there’s no resting with it. Whenever an idea pops into your head, you can’t let it go, or it might not come back.”

“Totally,” she replied. “If an idea arrives at like 3 am, you have to seize it.”

“I could cook that recipe for you one day and you can tell me if you like it. You were my first and best judge, back then.” Their smiles met. “And I could teach you how to do it so you can cook it for your kids. Maybe that way Daemon will finally get to eat his veggies.”

Dany chuckled. “It would be a win-win, to be honest. It’s a bit frustrating when he doesn’t eat.” After a pause, she said, “But there’s something special in cooking for someone, don’t you think?” He lifted his gaze to her. “You can cook a soup for when one is sick, you can cheer them up with a dessert, or just by cooking daily, you’re literally feeding them, you're making sure every day that those you’re cooking for will live, it’s a proof that you care about them.”

“I agree. Cooking for work is different, though. It’s quite hectic, the kitchen is a crazy environment. But at home, I like to take my time and make a recipe I love or change a few things about other recipes to try something new. As you say, if you cook for someone—for free—it means you care about them. So I see it as self-care, honestly, cooking for myself. Even if it’s just a crepe. You’re choosing to eat something made from you for you, instead of settling for a…fast-food burger or whatever.”

_‘What’s your secret?’ _she used to ask him when he cooked.

_‘To do it with care,’ _he replied. _‘With full attention.’_

_Attention_. She thought again to herself. The attention that he put on his dishes while he cooked was proof that he loved what he did, unlike engineering, where he studied to pass, without paying full attention to the classes. Didn’t she do so as well with her art? And with her children? The attention that she put on every stroke of her brush, on every mixture of colors of the oils. The attention that she paid to her children—to the tones of their voice, to how much fruit they had eaten during the day—was proof of her love for them.

Jon had always paid attention. To his food. To her. For the same reason, she wanted to learn and pay attention to every aspect of his life, to know that he was okay.

She asked him, “How are you liking your job, by the way?”

“I like it, but it’s tough.” He exhaled. “The kitchen is a harsh place, a lot of people who can’t deal with the pressure leave. It made me stronger, though, I think. And feeling productive is one of the most uplifting feelings out there, it helped me endure a lot of shit that would have made me perish if I had just been crying at home, without working, without doing anything productive.”

“You know, in many Latin languages, the word ‘happy’ is translated to ‘feliz’ or ‘felice’ or other similar words. They come from the latin word ‘felix’, which means fertile, productive. In Latin, a ‘felix’ soil is a soil that produces a lot of crops, and they started using that word with people as well. A productive person is a happy person.”

“I completely agree,” he said. She thought about herself. When she painted, how happy did she feel! How productive! Likewise, when she didn’t paint, she felt blue.

“I’m happy to hear that it made you stronger,” she said. “You’ve always been a warrior.”

He sighed. “Yeah, it’s so demanding that if you don’t love it, you wouldn’t be able to bear it. Not for long, at least. It tires me so much. I have to stand for many hours, and it hurts my legs and feet often, and you’re always rushing against the clock, but also wishing more customers could come. But still…there is no other job I’d rather have. And…I’m doing the work of a chef. I direct everyone.”

“Nice!” She grinned.

He shook his head with a serious expression. “No. It’s not. I’m a sous chef doing the work of a chef. I’m doing my bosses’ work, basically. I’m the one who keeps on working at home to make new recipes, I’m the one who’s always on time, I’m a better cook and I can direct the crew better. He’s always absent, always has something to do, he _says _he’s looking for new shellfish providers but I doubt he’s doing so. Plus, that isn’t even his job. This is the first time in the entire year that I’ve asked for a shift off, not even a day off…only a shift off. This week we stayed over to make some new recipes and mine will probably make it to the menu, but honestly, he always takes the credit in front of the owners, and in the customer’s eyes. And he gets the wage of a chef. I just—“ he sighed. “It’s not that I’m greedy, but this is unfair.”

“Of course this is unfair,” she frowned. “Tell him, Jon! Look at him dead in the eye, after the rest of the staff is gone. Tell him you’re the one who does everything, that they’re your recipes and it isn’t fair he takes all the credit!”

“Then he’s going to fire me, I bet.”

“Then talk to the owners.”

“He’s been in this post for years, he’s friends with the owners. I’ll achieve nothing.”

“Jon, you’re better than this. You’re better than letting others walk over you. Prove to the owners, somehow, that you’re the boss in that kitchen.” He sighed. “And if you can’t achieve anything, you should perhaps check if there’s a post at another restaurant. You can get any job you want. You have the skills. You don’t have to be working in a place where they don’t recognize what you do.”

Jon stayed silent, looking at his plate. She looked down at what was left of her food, too, and tried to cheer him up by saying, “You know, I’ve always found it amazing how… even the simplest of recipes can taste extraordinarily when you cook them,” she pointed at her dish. “That’s the proof you have a talent.”

He smiled and blushed, looking down. “Thank you. We both made it, though.”

“The roux is yours. It's the best part,” she said, eating the last bite of her dish.

“I’m happy you like it. I wanted to cook something better for you, a little more elaborate, maybe. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be doing this. So, _this is for you._ I don’t know what my life would be if it weren’t for you. Not only my work life, every aspect of it.” He smiled and placed his hand over hers.

Gods, she was holding herself back from hugging and kissing him. But she only held his hand firmly. They looked up at each other and smiled. Nervousness took over, so she excused herself to go to her bathroom upstairs. She knew what would happen now, so she quickly washed her teeth and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash. She walked down the stairs and found him looking at the family pictures in the living room.

He jerked, as if guilty of a crime. “Ni-nice pictures.”

“Yes, the kids are growing up quickly,” she said lightly, and stopped one step before reaching the first floor, refusing to go back downstairs and hinting that, if he wanted to, they could go upstairs.

He walked towards her, with his hands on his pockets, watching the blank walls around him. “These could use some paintings. Oil on canvas, maybe?”

She chuckled. “I guess.”

“Why aren’t they hung all around the house?”

“Daario likes sober colors and my paintings are…quite colorful. He says they don’t go well with the living room tones. So some of them are in the corridor upstairs.”

“Oh, come on,” Jon said.

“It’s his house too, you know. He paid for it. I can’t decorate it the way only I like it. And apparently now there’s this ‘minimalistic’ trend in big houses—”

“But…your paintings are beautiful! When your guests come over they have to see what you do!”

“I guess…” She looked at the ground. “I’ve tried to paint sober ones, with just a couple of colors, but… I don’t like the result… of any of them.”

“I get it.” He stopped before her. “I think I’m good with seafood but… when I try to cook beef… I don’t really love the outcome. But in your case, it shouldn’t matter if the colors match the house or not. Artists make art for themselves, yes, but I think it’s good for art to have an audience as well, even if it’s just a couple of guests, because it impacts both the artist and the viewer.”

She appreciated what he said, she shared his view, but she wouldn’t have this conversation again with her husband. So, she only gave him a smile in gratitude, while standing still on the first stair, holding the rail. Would he make a move?

They stared at each other, silently. She watched his face up and down. The electricity in her body begged her to touch him, to kiss him and hold him. At least a minor touch, one hand holding the other again…but her hand flew up and landed gently on his cheek. She slid it up over his ear and caressed it with her thumb. He placed his hand on hers, stroking it, his eyes were fixed on her lips.

She couldn’t bear it any longer. She pulled his head to her and kissed him. His arms went straight to hug her back, pulling her close to him, and she slid her hands to the nape of his neck. His full lips were finally against hers, a massage she had loved for years but had been too nervous in their date to enjoy them as she was doing so now.

“Are you sure?” he whispered against her mouth.

“I am.” She even giggled to herself. “I am. And you?”

“Absolutely.”

Their lips locked again, but she let go to say, “Hey, let’s go to my bed.”

They held hands on their way up, unable to let go of their contact. They rushed into the bedroom and Dany sat on the bed and took off her clothes. Jon took his shirt off and unbuckled his belt, a view she’d always loved. He rushed to kiss her again and she stayed in her underwear, she couldn’t keep on taking off her clothes and miss seconds of him.

She swiftly sat on his lap and pressed her body against his, hugging his back with her legs to be as close to him as she could. She wanted to kiss his neck, his chest, his stomach, his legs, his cock, his arse, but she couldn’t abandon his lips nor break apart the dance of their tongues. So her hands did the job of touching everything they could, bringing back to her memory what Jon felt like. He held the side of her face with one hand and the other one slid softly down her thigh. She pulled away to take her bra off and he traced kisses down her jaw, neck, to her breasts.

“Jon, Jon,” she breathed, caressing his ear.

Her panties and his briefs were the only barriers between her throbbing cunt and his hard cock, but before paying more attention to them, she wanted to kiss him more. She pulled his face up and left kisses on his forehead, down his nose, on his closed eyelids, cheeks, mouth, jaw, chin, so quickly it made him giggle uncontrollably. He stopped her by catching her lips with his and restarting their kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth. To her surprise, his hand slipped into her panties, making her moan as soon as he found her clit and pressed it in circles.

“Yes,” she moaned as her hips bucked towards his hand, “yes, yes.”

His cock looked hard under his briefs, so she pulled it out.

“I hadn’t seen it in so long.” She caressed its head with her thumb.

Jon chuckled, looking down. “It’s so hard.”

“Just how I like it,” she smiled, pressing it softly and moving her hand along its length.

“Do you want it to…” He pushed his fingers into her cunt, and curled them inside.

She shut her eyes and let out a moan. “Yes, so bad.”

He quickly grabbed his pants and turned them until he found his wallet in a pocket and took out a condom. He slid it around his cock and she placed it on her entrance. She sat on it and they hissed at the pleasure. Hard, against her wet walls, it felt like it fit perfectly for her, as if it had been made just for her. They breathed quickly as she moved on top of him and he ran his hands down her torso and stroked her breasts.

“Oh, Dany,” he exhaled, “I am in heaven right now.”

She pushed him to lie down on the bed and bounced over him, but he sat back up and hugged her again, kissing her neck. “I can’t…I have to hold you.”

They went on, allowing their moans to run freely out of their throats, allowing their hands to roam freely on the other’s body, allowing their lips to kiss, bite and suck whatever they wanted. He carried her and placed her on the mattress and went in again. His kisses, his strokes, the sound of his moans, of his giggles, she had missed every part of him. She hugged his head and placed a leg over his waist and caressed his buttocks, one of her favorite parts of his body. He moaned her name, and she couldn’t remember when was the time she had heard it being said in such a sweet way.

She fought against her quick breathing to say, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Jon.”

“Me too, so much,” he breathed, and started moving faster. “Oh fuck. I wanna cum.”

She did so as well. They hadn’t lasted too long. He kissed her hungrily as his hips moved erratically, building up his tension until he let it go and came with an expression she knew and loved.

But he didn’t stop, he leaned down and replaced her fingers with his mouth, kissing her clit, caressing her thigh with his wide palm. She arched her back, lifting her from the mattress, letting out a cry and allowing a tear to escape her eye. She buried her fingers in his hair as his pointed tongue worked on her clit, and when her moans grew too loud, he massaged her g spot with his fingers, tensing her muscles inch by inch, building up her inner electricity until it overflowed and she squirted.

He met her gaze with a grin as she chuckled, breathless.

“I hadn’t squirted in so long,” she exhaled.

He placed a kiss on her mound, also breathless.

It was the best sex she had had in years. She had craved for it. She had started it. She had enjoyed every kiss, lick and stroke. But above it all, she loved him. This had been more than physical pleasure, this had a been a wordless display of love from her and from him.

He placed tiny kisses on her inner thigh as she tried to calm down her breathing, and went back up to meet her face. He wiped his mouth and placed a kiss on her lips. He slid the back of his fingers all the way down her arm. She closed her eyes with a smile and caressed his beard.

“I wanted to hold it in longer,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” she said quietly.

“I’d been dying to have sex with you for weeks.”

“So was I,” she kissed his lips. “Can you believe this, Jon?”

“No. I’m terrified that I’ll suddenly wake up and this was all just a dream.” She pinched the back of his hand. “Ouch!”

“You’re awake,” she said.

They laughed out loud. He lay next to her and they snuggled closer. She intertwined her fingers with his and kissed the hand she pinched.

“Oh, Gods,” he said quietly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“So much,” she echoed, lying on her side to face him.

He rested his hand on her lower back and she placed hers on his neck. They didn’t move. They didn’t want to lose contact. She watched him closely to take in every detail of his face: from his pores to the tiniest wrinkles next to his eyes that he didn’t have before, to his eyebrows, to his lips. He watched her with the same concentration, and they chuckled when they made eye contact again.

“Look at us, all grown up,” she said.

“You’re exactly like I thought you’d be now,” he replied and looked down at her body, stopping at her breasts.

“Those have changed a bit,” she said. “Motherhood.”

He caressed the side of one of them with the back of his fingers and traced kisses from her cheek to her lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her.

“You are too.”

Their lips met again in a slow kiss as she ran her fingertips along his beard, from under his ear to his chin.

He pulled away with a giggle. “You know, when you said your arm was tired, I was holding myself back from asking you if you hadn’t given any handjobs.”

“I knew it!” She laughed.

He pulled down her lower lip with his thumb and she giggled. “How are you feeling, Dany?”

She knew what he meant. She was cheating on her husband with her ex-boyfriend. She thought cheating would fill her with guilt and shame, yet she hadn’t felt this free, this in control in years, like she owns her body and can start sex, instead of giving in. And she was crazy about Jon, head over heels about him. 

“The happiest I’ve been in a really long time,” she replied. She traced the lines on the palm of his hand, like she always used to do.

“Me too. These past days with you, especially this moment, have been the highlight of my life in a _while.” _

“Yeah. But I know it may weird being here, in this bed,” she said, “where another man sleeps in.”

“I’m trying not to think about it,” he replied. “But honestly, if it means I can be with you…I don’t give a damn who else sleeps here.”

She held his hand firmly and kissed it all around, making him giggle.

“When we were together last time at the beachfront, I was fighting the urge to love you, Jon, to fill you with kisses, to make love with you. I never loved any other man this much. I gave you a piece of my heart. A piece of my heart was always and will always be with you. We’d been through so much together, we had loved and cared for each other so much. I’ll always be there for you.”

“I’ll always be there for you too. You can mark my words. In no other relationship I’ve opened so much to someone, nor I have loved someone else as much. There is so much of you that is in me.”

She met his gaze and said, “I never stopped loving you.”

A tear left his eye and he replied, “Neither did I.” He wiped his tear with his hand. “It doesn’t mean I was weeping on every corner for you all these years, I learned to let go. But I still cared about you deeply, always, always kept you in my heart, how could I not? We’ve been so important for one another, we’ve been part of the other’s most intimate life. We’ve been in other relationships these years and that’s fine. I don’t think love is exclusive, you can love more than one person at the same time, in a different way. It’s not like you love someone new and your love for your previous partner automatically shuts off. I dated other women, yes, but I still hoped I could find you and just know what you were up to. Just know. Not necessarily take you back,” he chuckled. “Just know. Because I could never stop caring about you.”

She smiled and ran her fingertips down his cheek. “I agree. Love isn’t exclusive, but there’s always someone you’ll love a little more than others. Every parent loves a child more, even though they would never confess it. The same can happen with romantic love. I always loved you more and will always do.”

They sat up and hugged. It was a long embrace, her palms were open wide against his back, his were tight around her shoulders.

“Promise me something,” she told him, her eyes were shut to enjoy the feeling of their embrace.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“When we were talking the other day at the beach, we realized there were many things we left unsaid. Promise me, now we’ll tell each other even the cheesiest of feelings,” she told him. What if this didn’t last and there wasn’t a chance to say those things again?

“I promise.”

“I promise too. You’re wonderful Jon,” she let go of the hug and looked at him in the eyes, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Never doubt your talent nor the goodness in your heart.”

“You are too, you’re amazing. And you deserve the best in life. Don’t settle for less,” he said quietly.

She sighed. She had settled a long time ago.

“We still got time,” was her only reply, and they hugged again, silently. His arms around her were a distant memory, yet too familiar, so familiar it saddened her. “I regret deleting each other’s numbers, so much,” she said. “Can you ever forgive me for that?”

“Don’t apologize.” He held her head and kissed its side. “We both thought it would be better. We both agreed to it. I regret it too, though. I would have loved to just know about you and your life.”

She sighed. “I tried to forget you so hard but…you always come back to me when I go to a restaurant, or…when I watch Ratatouille with my kids.” They chuckled.

“It’s a great movie.”

“It is. It reminds me so much of you.”

“I can’t really say I’m flattered that a rat reminds you of me.” He pulled back, grinning.

“A talented rat.”

“Alright, that’s better.” His chuckle turned into a sigh. “Gods, I couldn’t go to museums because I kept on remembering you.” He carded his fingers down her hair, all the way down to her breast. “It took me a while to move on. But you…I’m glad you could.”

“It wasn’t like that…it wasn’t like I just moved on. This whole thing with Daario…” she pressed her eyes shut. “It was just a way to escape from you, from wanting you back.” Letting those words out hurt her stomach, it was the first time she was saying out loud she had gotten together with Daario for reasons alien to love. “And it went on because…we became super attached to one another and, well, I got pregnant. And I saw this as a chance for a loving family. A husband and a daughter who could love me and whom I could love. Don’t see my marriage as a sign of me getting over you quickly. It was the opposite of that.”

Jon brought the type of love that she had tried to convince herself she would reach one day with Daario, the type of love she thought they would achieve if they worked hard on it. She knew a stable relationship wasn’t achieved easily, her relationship with Jon had been the result of hard work, but she was losing hope in Daario.

She moved away from his lap. “I think…I think my husband has lost me,” her voice broke. It was the first time she was saying out loud anything slightly bad about her marriage, which she had defended fervently in front of others for years. “Every day, he loses me a bit more.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said quietly.

She had no one to share her problems with. She didn’t have many close friends anymore, and she certainly didn’t want to tell all this to her mother. She and Jon used to tell each other everything, she had trusted him as she had never trusted anyone, so she decided to tell him about her marriage, from how Daario didn’t let her work, to how he drove away her friends and family, to how he criticized every mistake she did and made her feel worthless, to their awful fights when their kids had to be locked in another room.

For the first time in her life, she was saying out loud everything that had just been a knot of thoughts in her mind, and talking helped her materialize it, it clarified what an asshole her husband was. She could see more objectively what a mess her marriage was. She hid this from her friends, from her mother, and she was telling this to him, whom she had not seen in so many years.

“No,” Jon said. “No, no, no, no,” with a terrible look of pain in his face and hugged her. “Why? Gods, Dany, why?” He let go and met her gaze. “No one should ever treat you this way. You deserve all the love in the world.” She only cried, embarrassed. “You are a person full of love who just wants to give love and receive love…you are so much more than this…than this life!”

“I know…but he’s been there for me in tough moments and I’ve been there for him in tough moments too. But…my kids…they cry at night and that makes me feel like shit. When I was little I heard worse things, like my mum begging for her life. I never told her I cried. I didn’t want her to have a heavier burden than what she already had. I guess it’s the same with them. They didn’t tell me about many of the times that they cry.”

“You deserve to be surrounded with people who fill you with love. You always want to light up the life of everyone around you, and you do. You have such a good heart.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “He is so lucky to have you as his wife and he treats you like this?! Gods, I wanna kill him. At least I’ll tell him he’s a fucking asshole. Maybe pinch one of his tires.”

“No. Jon. Don’t. The worst thing that could happen would be for him to find out about you. No way. If you care about me, the best thing you can do is to stay away from him as much as possible.”

“Oh, Gods. All this time I’ve been hoping you’re okay, that you’re happy, and I find out you’ve been living like this—hurt by someone who should love you.”

Jon cried, pressing his hands against his eyes.

“I hope you can forgive me,” she stroked his hair. “I needed to forget you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, no. We both had our own ways of coping with loneliness.”

She sighed. “Jon, without you even knowing what was going on in my house, you’ve helped me so much. You’ve helped me remember my worth. I’m better off without him, my children are better off without him. Look, when I was with him and something fucked up happened, I remembered how things were between you and me and I thought, _that_ was love. _He_ loved me. I’ve tried to stop comparing because I had to learn to love him for my children. But with you Jon I learned what love really was. We used to have much more than that, but I tried to forget it so bad! Because if I kept on remembering you, I would’ve been miserable every day. Now I remember that being in a relationship is much more than that.”

“Yes, it is. Of course it is,” he said calmly. “It’s never about holding the other down.”

She wiped the tears from her cheek. “I’ve always tried to work things out between us, for our kids. I’ve always tried to help him heal, to be there for him in his suffering. Just like I was for you and you were for me. Because love is healing, as you told me the other day, remember? Love is healing, love is giving. Well, that’s exactly what I wanted to do with him. To heal him and his emotional troubles with my love for him.” When she met him, she had seen him as a healer for her troubles as well. “But a partner isn’t someone who does all the healing for you. A partner isn’t a savior but someone who _helps _you grow. I wanted him to be my savior and I wanted to be one myself. But more often now I’m asking myself: do I have to keep on trying to work things out? Even if it ruins me?”

“Oh, Dany.” He hugged her again by the shoulders, pressing a kiss on her cheek.

She rested her face on his shoulder.

“Sorry, Jon. I’m ruining the moment, only talking about my husband. I bet it’s the last thing you want to talk about.”

“No. Please, talk about whatever you want, about whatever you need to talk.”

“Anyway, my point is…” she said, “what do I owe him? Loyalty? Why should I keep on giving him all my love if I get nothing in return? I know love is selfless but…there must be a limit. I’m ruining myself trying to heal him and he doesn’t even want to change.” She breathed. “I want to leave him.” It hurt to push those words out of her throat for the first time. But the more she spoke, the more real her goals became. “I don’t know if being here with you makes me a bad wife, a bad woman, a terrible person. It probably does? I don’t know. But the one thing I'm sure of is that I love you.”

“I love you too.” He placed his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes. Jon loved her. She could give back this love. But Daario…she couldn’t give back a love she wasn’t receiving. If love is paid with love, what should she give Daario back?

“It’s like…we have a second chance here. How could we just end this?” She wondered out loud.

“I know. I’m scared that this will have to end, whether we want it or not.”

“Let’s not think about it now,” she said quietly. “But whatever happens, don’t forget that I will always love you.”

“Don’t forget that I love you, either,” he replied. “Dany, you’re so strong...”

“Me? I’ve fucked up. I’ve been so stupid to choose a partner so poorly…”

“It’s not your fault. His abuse will never be your fault. Look at you, you’ve been enduring a relationship with an abuser for so long—because that’s what he is, don’t sugarcoat it—and after taking his shit for so many years you’re still a woman full of love and a sense of humor that cracks me up all the time. Even after having a man denigrate you and disrespect you for years.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips and hugged him. But the sound of a text message distracted them. She stretched to get her pants from the other side of the bed and took her phone out of its pocket.

“We should get dressed now,” she said. “I’ll have to go pick up my kids in a bit.”

After getting dressed, he said, “Wait, where are your new paintings? The ones I’ve never seen?”

She took him to the corridor by the hand. They had rushed to her bedroom so quickly he had obviously missed them. Three of her paintings were framed and hung on the walls.

“I love them,” he said as he stared at them. “You’ve improved, impossibly.”

“I’m thinking about also painting the kid’s bedroom walls. They’d look fantastic with some color.” But she was doubting that now…what if she moved out? “I have others downstairs. Do you want to see them?”

“_Please,” _he said. “It will be quick, I don’t want your kids to wait for too long for you.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Every time I pick them up from a playdate they always beg me to stay over for longer, and I have to sit down with the other kid’s parents and buy some time,” she chuckled.

She showed him the paintings she had in the office downstairs. Some were stretched at the table, but most were in the closet, rolled up.

“Many of them are just ‘wips’,” she said.

“Wips?”

“Works-in-progress. I’ve abandoned many. It’s hard to complete them.”

“They’re beautiful. How do you come up with what you want to paint?”

“I paint what I see, and what I see depends on my mood. I can see a sad, grey sea, or I can see the life that the ocean’s waves bring to such a monotone landscape. I can see a dark, lonely night or I can see the beauty of the moon’s glimmering reflection on the sea. I can see colorful trees when I see life in them, I can see stability in the logs, or I can see loneliness in the leaves that fall. What I see depends completely on my mood.”

He held her by the shoulders as he kept on watching the paintings.

“I’ve forgotten many poems I used to love,” she went on, “but how could I forget _A Leaf Falls _by E.E. Cummings?”

She showed him a painting of a leaf falling to the ground, painted two years ago. She was feeling lonely, back then. There was no doubt about it.

“You’ve portrayed it so well,” he said. “The vertical fall, like an abyss…it’s a…it’s a sad painting.”

“It is.”

But he suddenly chuckled.

“What?” she asked.

“_Cummings_.”

They both laughed out loud.

“What are we, twelve?” She liked it for her inner child to be taken out, though. 

_Jon and her paintings_. She hadn’t felt this at home in years. “This one’s my favorite.” She unrolled another one and placed it on the table. She hugged him by the waist as he held her by the shoulders. A ship shone in the middle of a dark sea with a hide tide, its light only lit up its immediate surroundings as it drifted to the unknown horizon.

“A ship in the middle of the ocean: bravery, loneliness, but also being lost,” she said. She felt the same way: lost, but also hardworking for everything she did on her own for her kids. On her own. Just like the ship. “The tide is high, but the only way out is to keep on sailing.”

“I don’t even know what to say, I’m speechless. It’s so beautiful.”

“You know what’s funny?” She placed her head on his shoulder. “After painting this kind of paintings, the painful ones…I don’t feel as bad. When I pour the pain into the canvas…the canvas absorbs it. It takes it out of me. Isn’t it crazy? And I painted many paintings that year. My mother always came over to help me with the kids. I have the dates here, behind every canvas. If you see them as a sequence, they go from dark to light. The themes also get better. It cleanses me. So, when some time goes by without painting…everything that’s wrong just bottles up inside me.”

“And when you create…it lifts you up so much, doesn’t it?” He said. “You feel productive, you feel creative, you feel like a creator, literally, of beauty. Few things in the world can give you that high.”

“Yes, exactly." She kissed his shoulder. "By the way…what were you gonna do with all the paintings if you never found me?” He had had them for a decade, was he planning on keeping them, and her other things, forever?

He sighed. “Nothing else I had was charged with so much of you as those paintings. Not even your clothes and all the other things you left behind. You are in them. They’re your creations, your babies, as you used to call them.” She chuckled. “I’d keep them always, on our walls, where they used to be, but it’s impossible for me not to look at them and think of you. I’ve seen you paint most of them, in a corner at home…” he trailed off and breathed. “I also thought I should do some justice to them and donate them to museums. They’d have a better life there than in my house—away from all the eyes that deserve to watch them. These paintings shouldn’t be here, stacked in a closet, all hidden.”

“I know. I also think they’d have a better life elsewhere. There’s certainly some pain in letting them go, we humans like to store stuff, especially stuff we’ve put effort into. But I want to sell them. So I’m telling people they can come over and see my works.”

“That’s perfect. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She sighed, “I should probably go pick my kids up now.”

He nodded and they hugged. It was a long hug, a deep hug, the ones that are painful to break, the ones that are like a shot of energy and calm. He caressed her head up and down. How she wished she could have him every night.

“Don’t forget your cooler,” she said quietly.

He chuckled. “I won’t.”

He went to pick it up to the kitchen and she told him, “Daario will be back on Wednesday night. You could come over these next three nights.”

“Sure. But…what about your kids?”

“You could arrive late at night and leave early in the mornings? If that’s okay with you.”

“Yes. More than okay.”

“Or…you could stay here with me until the kids come back from school. You’ll just hide in the mornings,” she chuckled. She couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“I gotta get to the restaurant at ten-thirty. But we can have some hours in the morning together.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “So, see you tomorrow night?”

“See you tomorrow night,” he agreed.

She gave him one last kiss before leaving. “I’m so glad we met again.”

Even if it was too late, even if it was complicated. It felt better than never having found him again.

“Me too. Can’t wait for tomorrow night,” he smiled.

This is the love she deserved, she told herself as she shut the door after he walked out.

For the first time in years, she was playing with the idea of not being with Daario anymore, and how good did it feel.

_The Kiss by Edvard Munch_

_I love how their faces are merged as one, and the curtain behind them gives the impression that they're hiding too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the people who hate affairs: It was on the tags, it was on the summary of the fic. You chose to click on this fic.  
To the people who are sending hate for the presence of Daario: It was on the tags, it was on the summary of the fic. You chose to click on this fic.  
You read it anyway despite being warned. So I won’t apologize nor change anything. 
> 
> "Love isn't exclusive": This is important to understand the characters. Take a moment to listen to this TedTalk about the biochemistry in our brains and why we can love more than one person. Romantic love, sexual love, attachment, one can feel them for different people. Clearly, Dany and Daario’s case is the third one. https://www.ted.com/talks/helen_fisher_why_we_love_why_we_cheat  
I also recommend watching Netflix "Explained: Monogamy."
> 
> Eager to read your comments! They’re still moderated because of some bullies but everyone else is welcome!
> 
> I hope you guys had a happy Christmas and I wish you all the best in this following year!  
Next chapter will also be super romantic and cute!


	7. Life Without Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One only retains what he doesn’t bind.” —Guitarra y vos, Jorge Drexler

_ _

_Painting by Ivan Aivazovsky_

* * *

_‘Okay. I think they’re asleep,’ _Dany texted Jon.

She opened the door to let him in and greeted him with a kiss on the lips. She whispered in his ear, “Take your shoes off.”

They walked upstairs tip-toeing, slowly, and into her bedroom. She closed and locked the door.

In a regular volume, he asked, “So, how was your—”

She placed her index finger over her lips. “Lower your voice,” she whispered.

“Sorry,” he whispered back.

“If they come knocking at my door, they’ll hear us,” she said against his ear.

“So, will we stay silent the entire night?” He ran his hands up and down her arms.

“Yeah…we can sit on either side of the bed and read a book or something.”

“Oh…okay…”

She laughed quietly. “I’m joking.”

He closed his eyes and laughed. “Okay.”

She got into bed, and before he did so too, she told him, “No wait, don’t get into bed with the clothes you used outside. You’ll get germs on the sheets. Did you bring pajamas or something?”

“Why would I bring pajamas?” he joked, and took his clothes off. “And since when don’t you get into bed with regular clothes?”

“Since I have to clean everything in this house,” she said. He stayed in his boxer shorts and got into bed. Dany pulled the covers over their heads, covering every inch of them. “We’ll block the sound better this way, we can talk more here.”

He chuckled. “We’re going to suffocate in like two minutes.”

“Let’s take our heads out for air every two minutes, then.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, and held the sheets above them as well. “So how was your day?”

“Better than most days.” She grinned. “I sold a painting.”

“No way!”

“Yes, I was so excited, I wanted to call you right away! But I wanted to tell you face to face too. She saw one of my seascapes online and wanted it for her beach house. She loved it and said she’d recommend my work to her friends.”

Selling a painting was much more than just an exchange of goods and money. It was an assurance of her talent.

“I’m proud of you. I’m sure this will be the first of many sales,” Jon said before taking his head out for air.

“Oh, I have an idea!” she said, and turned on the TV with a high volume.

"Much better," he said, and put an arm around her shoulders. She supported herself on the mattress with her elbow, looking down at him as they talked. He told her some customers had called the chef to compliment him but Jon went out instead, as the chef was not at work, as usual.

“And he’s not making new dishes. He only changes a couple of ingredients. The last food critique bashed us on our boring menu. And he was right about it. I’m just hoping these new dishes I’m introducing will have a good response.”

“That _you’ll_ introduce but _he’ll_ get credit for?”

Jon sighed and looked down. “The owners won’t fire him. They’re friends. They think he’s the best.”

“The critiques don’t think so.” Jon pursed his lips. She held his hand between them. “Do you remember back then when we competed to see who cooked faster or better? It was such a stupid competition, to be honest. You always won. I don’t even know why I agreed to it. Maybe just to give you the pleasure of doing so.” She laughed.

He chuckled. “You had nice ideas sometimes.”

“Well, I think you could do that now.”

“Do what?”

“You’re the one who directs the people more, you’re the brains behind the new recipes you want to introduce to the menu…you can prove that to the owners.”

“What, by competing against my boss in front of them?”

“By somehow showing you’re the best one..”

“But…that is so unprofessional.”

“Why?”

“Because…” He looked down with a frown.

“What is unprofessional is not doing shit and then collecting your paycheck and being recognized as the chef of the restaurant,” she said. He nodded, rubbing her hand with his thumb. “Or you could leave.”

He looked up at her. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a job, and a good job, in the kitchen? I can’t afford that. It’s too much of a risk.”

“You should open your own restaurant. Be able to make your own dishes and getting recognized for it. And you wouldn’t have an asshole boss.”

Jon chuckled. “I’d love that. I wish it’d be that easy. It’s so expensive. Just the rent is insanely high in this city.”

“It’s true.” She leaned in playfully and said, “I’ll tell Daario to convince the bank to finance your business.”

He laughed out loud and she covered his mouth with her hand. “Sorry,” he said.

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his lips. She felt like a teenager, sneaking a boyfriend into the house and into her bedroom.

As they had to be close to each other to whisper, they were constantly in contact—their legs, their hands, or even their toes. They kept on talking until their eyelids felt heavy and, between yawns, she told him, “I’m falling asleep.”

“Me too,” he chuckled, blinking slowly.

“I wanted to…” she chuckled, “at least very quietly, have some fun.”

“Me too,” he turned a lock of hair in his hand. “But I also wanted to catch up with how your life’s going. But we still have two more nights together.”

“Yes, or tomorrow morning after I drop the kids off at school.”

“Perfect.”

One last goodnight kiss before snuggling. Her hand was on his warm neck and his on her ribcage, and in a few breaths, they fell asleep.

_'In Bed, The Kiss' by Henri De Toulouse-Lautrec _

* * *

Her alarm woke them up the next morning and she rushed to wake the kids up, get them ready, and make breakfast while Jon hid in her bathroom.

“Mummy, can you braid my hair?” Visenya asked.

“Sure, love.”

While Visenya ate breakfast Dany quickly braided her hair in one braid down her back. She kissed her head when she was done and rushed upstairs to see Jon. He sat on the toilet, watching her brush her teeth.

“I have to take a shower,” she told him. “Do you wanna get in with me? It will be a quick one, though.”

“Sure.”

“Or…when I get back from school we could shower more patiently.”

“Alright.”

She washed her face and did her makeup quickly. She rushed downstairs. “Backpacks? Lunchboxes? Everything’s ready?”

The three of them rushed to the car and took off. During the ride, she got a text from Jon: ‘Have you had breakfast yet?’

‘No,’ she replied at a red light.

‘Alright. Do you still like your eggs scrambled?’

‘Yes.’

‘Coffee?’

‘Yes.’

‘Orange juice?’

‘Yes. There are more fruits, if you want something else. Make yourself at home.’

‘Perfect.’

* * *

She parked the car at home and walked in.

“Hello!” She said loudly.

“Hello there.” He rushed from the garden to the entrance and kissed her on the lips as she threw her arms around his shoulders.

He had set the table in the garden and as they walked out, she hugged him from behind and kissed his neck. He caressed her arms and turned his head to kiss her lips before they sat down.

“Strawberry, pineapple, banana, almond milk,” he said, pointing at the smoothie. “They go well together.”

Even scrambled eggs, when he made them, tasted amazing. She ate and drank her smoothie quickly and burped. She chuckled in embarrassment.

“Bless you,” he said, as he always used to in those situations. It brought her back to their flat at White Harbor, a tiny place with a tiny table. The table where they were right now wouldn’t even fit in there, and if they had wanted to be in a wide garden like this one they would have to eat in a public park. She wouldn’t mind going back to that to be with him again, though.

“Sorry. Thank you. It was delicious,” she said. “I’m gonna make this smoothie for my kids, they'll love it.”

Their chairs were right next to each other, with no space in between. Their legs were touching. Jon placed his arm on her shoulders and she rested her head on the side of his face. She placed her hand on his belly and he rested his on top, caressing her fingers. Not knowing if this affair would last years or only a few days made her want to cherish every moment as if it were the last.

He looked at his watch. “We still have time before I gotta leave for work.”

She lifted her head and kissed his cheek repeatedly until she reached the side of his lips. He turned his head and their lips met on a wide but slow kiss. His hand went up her arm softly, until it reached her neck and his fingers dove into her hair. His tongue went into her mouth and she moaned softly. Her fingers sneaked beneath the hem of his t-shirt and scratched his bare belly, slowly traveling down.

“Wanna go to bed?” he whispered.

“No,” she replied. “I haven’t finished eating yet. The main course is still pending.” She smiled.

“Oh, I thought this would be enough, sorry, do you want anything else?”

She chuckled. “Oh, Jon. You seem to have forgotten what ‘the main course’ is…”

She kissed him again and her hand slowly slid under his boxer shorts and reached his cock. Her hand hugged it and her thumb danced in circles around its head.

He moaned. “Oh Gods. The main course.”

She hummed with a smile, covering his lips with hers again.

He let go to say, “Chef’s recommendation.”

She stood up and before she could kneel on the floor, he pulled her to sit on his lap. She laughed, “Jon!”

“Stay here for a little while,” he hugged her and kissed her again as her hand went back to stroking his cock. He massaged her breast and pulled down her blouse and bra for it to pop out and his mouth covered it instantly. She let out a moan as he sucked her nipple, hardening it by the second.

“Wait,” she chuckled. She didn’t want to get lost in her own pleasure now. She wanted to please _him._ “Let me do what I want to do.” She pressed his cock harder between her hand as she stroked it up. He moaned.

“Okay. Do it.”

She couldn’t remember when was last time she had given a blowjob, but she acted with confidence once she was kneeling on the floor and Jon’s cock was standing up, erect inside her hand. She traced tiny kisses beside his cock, down to his balls. She lifted it up and slowly licked up his balls and the underside of his cock. She did it again, and again and again. His breath quickened and she said, “You can moan freely for me. The louder the better.”

Her tongue now licked up from his balls all the way to the tip of his cock, followed by a stroke of her hand and a moan from his mouth. She closed her lips around the tip, rolling her tongue around it. His pleasure was her best reward. His moans, his hands on her hair or stroking her cheek were her main motif to keep going. Her tongue on his tip, her hands along his length. She went on for a while, licking and kissing a spot he loved.

He was looking down at her with a tiny frown from pleasure. She adored that face. She then sucked his cock up and down, taking in as much as she could. _“Yeah,” _Jon said. _“Go on.” _He held her free hand while she sucked him up and down, holding it steady with her other hand. She occasionally let out small moans to let him know she was enjoying it too.

“Oh, Dany,” he frowned with shut eyes, holding her head softly. “Oh my fucking gods.” His quick and loud breathings got in the way of saying more words. Her knees were starting to hurt and her neck was getting sore, but making him this happy for a little while, taking his mind off every worry he had, was enough for her to keep on going with more kisses, licks, and playful hands working together. Her tongue went back to his tip and he moaned. “I love it there,” he said, and softly guided her hand with his to stroke his shaft up and down. He moved her hand quicker, her breath was quicker, and he announced shortly after that he was about to finish. She gave his cock one last kiss before letting go and only working on it with her hands, up and down. His liquids slinked out and dripped down to her hand.

She turned to take the napkins from the table but before cleaning herself, she looked at him with a playful gaze and took her tongue out, drawing it towards the cum on her hand.

“No,” Jon chuckled with the little strength he had. “Just wipe it.”

She did so, cleaned him too, and wiped her mouth. He pulled her up and she sat on his lap and hugged him around the neck as he hugged her around the waist. Jon carded his fingers through her hair, sliding them down her back, and placed tiny kisses on her neck.

She took her phone from the table to look at the time. She sighed.

“Gods, I want to eat you out too.” He held her hand and stroked it softly.

“I don’t think we can keep going.”

“I know. Time flies when you’re getting eaten out.” He kissed the side of her face repeatedly. “We should probably take a shower now, then.”

She gave him one last kiss on the mouth, slow, running her fingertips down the cartilage of his ear. He lifted her hand and kissed the center of her palm.

In the bathroom, they took off their clothes and she turned the shower handle. The water fell from a big shower head on the roof. It was perfect for two. He stepped in after her and the water covered them in an embracing warmth.

“You know, I don’t shower with hot water anymore,” she said, stroking her head with shampoo.

“You don’t? Why?” Jon asked.

“I’ve heard it’s bad for muscle toning.”

“You work out?” His eyes widened in surprise. “You used to hate to do so.”

“I…yeah,” she chuckled. This tiny detail brought back to her mind the question if they were, in fact, the same people that had been in a relationship a decade ago. How much more they had changed these past years? “Jon, I...I’m not the same girl I was back then, I was sort of…reckless,” she chuckled, “But now, I don’t know. I’m a mum,” was that how she defined herself now? “I watch Disney movies all the time. I can’t even recite a single poem by heart, and I knew so many. We’ve grown, we’ve changed, we’ve forgotten many things, lived new ones. We hang out with other people. Our views are different, our priorities. My kids are first. My art used to be first before I had them… Will we still love each other the way we are now?”

When she had fallen in love with Daario, she had fallen in love with a mask, she had not been willing to see who he really was. And now, was she falling in love with Jon or with the memory of him? That was a frightening question.

"I'm head over heels about you, but you're right, we're different people now. Will we love each other the same way? There’s only one way to find out. Isn’t there?"

She smiled sadly at him. “Yeah, I'm getting used to the new things about you. Your hair is shorter now,” she smiled jokingly. “I can’t do a maw-hawk with it with shampoo anymore.”

He chuckled. “But I can do it with yours.” He pushed her hair to the center of her head and, with the help of the shampoo, it stayed up on a spike. They laughed. “Also, wash your face, it smells like dick.” He rubbed her face with soap as she laughed out loud. They hugged. They rubbed soap on each other's bodies. They kissed. The wet kisses tasted like soap and shampoo and made them laugh harder. Ordinary, daily acts turned into extraordinary ones in each other’s company.

When their laughs ceased and the sound of the water replaced them, Dany placed her head on Jon’s shoulder and they breathed silently in a long hug.

“If I could stay here forever, I would,” she said.

“But in a bunch of minutes our fingers will start to wrinkle like raisins!” he joked. She chuckled and kissed his shoulder. He sighed. “I know what you mean. I wish I could take these couple of days off and just stay with you here.”

She looked up at him and he kissed her forehead.

“You already missed a shift to come over on Saturday.” He nodded. “The kitchen would fall apart without your management,” she said. “The moment passion overshadows our responsibilities is the moment love becomes a liability.”

Putting a relationship over every other aspect of their lives…she did it with her husband and lost more than what she gained by doing so. With Jon, it had been the other way round.

Jon nodded and kissed her lips repeatedly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yes.” She kissed him again. “I’ll be counting the minutes to see you again.”

They got out of the shower and got dressed. She walked with him downstairs and before he opened the door, she told him. “I wish it could be you living with me instead of him.”

“I wish the same, so bad,” he told her.

Wishes. Wants. Would they spend this whole affair feeling sorry for themselves? Frustrated about having to be together in secret? Inaction would only lead them to their eventual separation. Action was a bridge between a wish and reality. Nothing would be magically solved. But how could this be solved?

“Send me pictures of how your painting is going, I want to see the process,” he said.

“Okay, I will.”

One last kiss. “See you tonight.”

“See you. Have a nice day,” she smiled.

“You too!” He waved.

Door shut. A whole damn house for herself, waiting to be attended. But she ignored its call and went into the office to work. She tied her hair, poured water on a cup, and squeezed oils on the palette. She painted for hours and texted Jon every once in a while. For the first time, she felt like she had some agency in her house. She could do whatever she wanted. She had felt like a guest in this house, or like a worker, tied to a series of obligations. When her body got tired of painting, she took a nap. It even felt like her bed instead of Daario’s bed where she also slept.

At night, he arrived when the kids were asleep. Tip-toes up the stairs. TV on. Cuddles under the covers. Whispers. His clothes were off again and she was wearing a tight tank top and loose pajama shorts. His eyes roamed from her eyes to her lips as she spoke, so she placed a hand on his ribcage. He placed a hand on her waist right away and her body leaned towards him without her command. Their faces were so close to one another that he shut his eyes with a smile and she slid her hand up to hold his jaw and licked his lower lip softly. He chuckled lightly and opened his mouth wide against hers. He slid his hand down, caressing her arse and reaching her thighs. He stroked her back up and down until he stopped at her arse and massaged her buttocks. Her breath quickened as she stroked his head, pushing her tongue into his mouth. His hand traveled to her cunt and circled her nub quickly.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

His mouth left hers and he planted kisses down her chest, her belly, but she held his head up.

“No,” she whispered. “Stop. Don’t eat me out.”

“Isn’t it your favorite thing on the goddamn planet?” he asked.

“Exactly,” she pulled him by the arms. “I won’t be able to keep quiet. Come back up here.”

He crawled back to her level and lowered the cleavage of her top until a breast popped out. He circled his thumb around it. “What about this?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “Stay there.”

“And this?” He covered it with her mouth and sucked her nipple. She let out a tiny moan.

“Yeah, stay there,” she breathed quickly. He pointed his tongue against her hard nipple. His free hand was on her ribcage and she held it and lowered it to her cunt. “Finger me too, _please,_” she said quietly.

She was already wet, so it wouldn’t be hard for his fingers to slide inside her. But before he could do so, a knock at the door made them freeze.

Dany didn’t reply.

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Mummy?!” Visenya asked.

“Pretend you’re asleep,” he whispered to her ear.

_Knock knock. _“Mummy!”

“Maybe it’s important,” Dany whispered back, although she was probably just scared of the dark. She lowered the volume of the TV and asked, “Vis? It’s late, baby. I was asleep.”

“I threw up, mummy!”

“_Fuck_,” they both whispered.

“Um…give me a second!” Dany said, drying her breast with the sheet and hiding it behind her shirt again.

She and Jon got up. He hid in her bathroom with all his belongings and locked the door. Dany walked out to tend her daughter. She had thrown up on the floor next to her bed.

She texted Jon: ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s alright. Do you want me to leave?’

‘I don’t _want_ you to leave. but I think you’ll have to.’

‘Do you want me to get anything from the pharmacy?’

‘No, thanks, I think we’re fine.’

She closed the door of the bathroom where she was washing Visenya’s face.

‘All clear. You can go now,’ she texted him.

‘Alright. See you tomorrow.’

‘See you tomorrow. Sorry again.’

‘Don’t apologize. I hope she gets better.’

After cleaning the floor, she lay in bed with Visenya. Visenya hugged her by the stomach and she kissed her head. _What had she eaten today? What had she drank today? How long had those vegetables been on the fridge? Over a week? No. Only a couple of days. _Caring, paying attention. That was love.

The next day, Visenya was clearly feeling better but Dany still gave her permission not to go to school. She stayed in bed watching movies eating diet soup Dany had bought. Dany was free to paint during those hours, checking on her daughter every now and then. In the evening she and the kids sat at the table in the garden to paint with tempera. She had pasted newspaper on it to protect it. She also called Rhaella to join them, whom she hadn’t seen in some weeks.

They cut some fruits in squares for the kids in the kitchen.

“I’m always happy to see you three,” Rhaella told her.

“I’m happy to see you too, mum,” Dany replied.

“A pity you have to wait for your husband to travel to invite me over, though.” Dany only sighed. “How’s your life going? Your daily life?”

“Good. I just sold a painting,” she smiled.

“Really? I’m so happy for you,” Rhaella smiled. “When was the last time you sold one?”

“I don’t even remember,” she chuckled.

“Good for you, dear.”

“What about you, mum?”

“Same as always. Working and going home. Occasionally visiting your brothers.”

Perhaps she should invite her over or go to her place more often. Her husband’s voice in her head kept on telling her how intrusive her mother was, but she tried to quiet it down. Daario wasn’t here. He shouldn’t be talking to her still.

As they sat at the table with the kids, Daemon said, “She’s better than me,” pointing at Visenya’s drawing.

“No, love, you’re both as good,” Dany replied.

“Her arms look more real than mine.”

Daemon’s drawing was a fuzzy representation of their family, in which they could only be recognized because of the yellow doodle in Dany’s and Daemon’s heads and the brown on Visenya’s and Daario’s.

“Well,” Dany said. “Visenya is really good, yes. Her art is closer to reality, with practice, you can draw like her. But you can’t measure how good a drawing is by how similar it is to reality. Look at these abstract paintings,” she said, googling a couple of famous paintings on her phone. “They’re not like reality at all. And yet some of the most famous painters in the world are abstract painters or surrealist painters. Or even in my landscapes, sometimes I paint trees red, purple, orange, blue, and those aren’t the real colors of the trees! And it’s not bad art.”

Rhaella smiled at Dany as Visenya sat on her lap and they painted together a light blue sky. Dany loved watching them this happy, especially knowing the things her daughter had seen, the pains she must be going through in silence.

Dany wanted to know everything about her and Daemon, from their fears to their biggest dreams. But motherhood was a process of letting go. Their relationship starts as the strongest of unions, they were literally inside her, connected to her. Then, when they came out of her they were a little less united. But they were still completely dependent on her: to eat, to sit up, to have their bottom cleaned. For now, they were still connected deeply. They were okay when she was okay, and today was a great day, with no need to put on a mask. She used to think of their happiness as a dichotomy, she had to stay in this marriage for them to be happy. But it really wasn’t that way. And was this really their happiness?

It’s difficult for the mother and the children to materialize that they’re not one anymore, but that’s what their relationship is about, letting them be their own person. Letting go was a way to show them her love. They would become grown adults, with a mind of their own, values and ideas of their own, and a life of their own. She wanted them to be good, healthy adults, not people whose past tormented them. But their future got built day by day.

Her children were her best teachers regarding love. It was the most selfless love of them all. A baby doesn’t show any love to their parents, they can’t say ‘I love you’ back, they can’t even hug them. Yet parents still care for them with every inch of their attention. They don’t expect any rewards. They don’t expect anything back, they just want their child to live a good life. That was enough.

They didn’t have to act a certain way for her to love them, either. Even if they misbehaved, even if they hated her, she would _still_ love them. With Daario, she felt like she got love when she deserved it, when she acted the way he wanted her to.

She looked at her mother’s smile. It had been the same way with Dany. That same selfless love. Her mother had done and endured so much. If she could, Dany could.

“And she has the biggest pool out of everyone in the class,” Visenya was saying about a girl from school. She sighed. “We don’t even have a pool here.”

“And?” Dany asked. “Have you seen the size of this garden? You can play football here. You can jump on the trampoline—”

“But there’s _no pool_.”

“We go to the pool when we go to the beach club.”

“But my friends have a pool _in_ their houses…it’s embarrassing.”

“Visenya,” Rhaella said calmly. “Don’t compare yourself to others. Much less if it’s about money. You must care for people for who they are, not for what they have. If you go to a friend’s house and it’s a tiny flat, would you stop being their friend? Or would you be their friend because you like them?”

“Because I like them.”

“Ah…then it must be the same way with your friends. It shouldn’t embarrass you. Even if you were completely poor, if you didn’t even have a house, your friends will love you for who you are.”

“But what if they don’t?”

“Then, they’re not the right kind of people, are they?”

Visenya looked at the blue sky she was painting. “I guess.”

“Not only that, but you should not complain about what you have. You should be grateful to your mum and dad.”

Dany thanked her with a smile. Her mother replied with another tender one. Visenya kept her head down. Dany intervened, “Visenya don’t compare yourself to others. It’s a never-ending competition. There will always be someone better, or richer, or whatever.”

For now, she was their mentor, their teacher, but they had no idea how much they taught her as well.

* * *

After they took the kids to bed, Dany told her mother, “The other day Visenya insulted a girl during football practice. The mother called me, she was furious. She called her a lazy bitch.”

Rhaella’s eyes widened. “Where did she learn that?”

“The TV… I guess,” she lied and sighed. “I get so frustrated when these things happen. I don’t know what to do. I’d like to get inside their heads and just know why the hell they act that way. And sometimes, when I’m upset about something, I take it out on them. I don’t want to. I only want my rage to affect me.”

“I think it’d be better if your rage didn’t even affect you, but I get it.”

“You…despite everything that happened between you and dad, you always treated us well.” There was so much about her mother she hadn’t thanked her about. “Thank you. And what I’m trying to say is…I could really use your advice from now on.”

“But Dany, every time I’ve tried to give you any suggestions about raising the kids…you’ve shut me up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can always have my advice. You can call me whenever you want. You can tell me whatever you want.”

She would definitely do so.

"Thank you, mum."

“I had a great time, by the way.”

“Me too.”

“It’s always good to come to your house,” Rhaella said. _Her_ house. It did feel like her house now. And everything was different when it felt that way.

* * *

Jon arrived before midnight. He and Dany cuddled in bed while she showed him the videos she filmed of the kids painting.

“He’s so sweet,” Dany said about Daemon. “It worries me sometimes…the influence his dad can have on him. I hope this sweetness in him is never taken away.”

“He has a good mother,” he said. She smiled. She hoped she was a good mother. “How’s Rhaella doing?”

“She’s good.”

_‘And the capital of Dorne?’_ Rhaella asked the kids in the video.

_‘Sunspear!’_ both exclaimed.

_‘And of The Westerlands?’_

_‘Casterly Rock,’_ Visenya said.

“Do you think she is…too nosey?” Dany asked. Jon hadn’t seen her in many years, but Dany still valued an opinion about her mother from someone other than Daario.

“Too nosey?”

“And that she messes with other people’s lives too much?”

“I think she’s lovely. She cares too much about others, but I get it, considering her past.”

“Did we ever have any problems because of her?” Dany wondered out loud.

“Because of your mother? Why would we?”

“I don’t know.” She turned off her phone and hugged him tightly around his chest.

“I want to say ‘say hi to her from me’, but…”

“No,” she chuckled. “Not yet.”

_Not yet. _

“This is the biggest secret I’ve ever had to keep,” he said, stroking her shoulder.

“Me too.”

They kissed. Small kisses. Slow kisses. Pure tenderness. No rush to go further. He turned to his side and held her waist while she caressed the side of his face. They let go and their eyes met in a long, silent gaze, reflecting their past and their present, but what about their future?

“Dany.”

She slid her hands to his neck while pressing a tiny kiss on his chin. “Hm?”

“We’re getting too attached.”

“I know,” she whispered sadly, looking at him.

“And I’m scared.”

She broke his gaze. “Me too.”

A conversation had to follow, a deep, long conversation. They had to talk this out instead of pushing it back even more. This might end. This might end badly. The further they got involved, the more they climbed the mountain, the higher they could fall from. Should they end it now before it got more painful?

They should talk about this.

And yet…

They stayed silent. Both feared the conversation. So neither said a word for the rest of the night. She moved closer to him, placing her knees against his belly for her legs to be curled above his, held his hands between hers and placed one, two, three kisses on them. Silence. Sleep cut the chance to talk.

* * *

_‘He’s coming back today,’_ was her first thought in the morning. Jon must have been thinking the same, because they locked their arms in a long embrace. She pressed a kiss on his cheek, and another, and another, and another, making him giggle with his eyes closed.

“It’s been a pleasure to be with you for four straight nights,” he told her.

“I love you,” she only replied.

“I love you too. My place can be an option from now on,” he said, stroking her hair.

“When and at what time?”

“Every day you can. After you drop the kids off at school.”

“Perfect.”

She kissed him deeply and naively wished they never had to have that pending conversation.

* * *

She washed the sheets, cleaned the room as carefully as she had ever done so. There could be no trace of someone else when her husband arrived.

They welcomed Daario that evening with hugs and kisses. He was tired, so after giving them their presents they all lay in bed to look at the pictures he had taken on his trip to the east. After a two-day conference, they had all booked a tour around a few cities. Daario loved history, so he told the kids about the first civilizations of the world, showing them the photos of the ruins. He told them about the development of writing and money while the kids listened attentively.

Was the clock ticking for them? How much longer could they all be together, looking at photos and talking about history before Dany decided to cut this off and to break the family apart?

If she and the kids left Daario and she became a full-time artist, would she be able to give them the life they deserved? And who knows how long it would take her to get a good amount of clients again to stay afloat? Money wasn’t everything, but sure it was important. Especially when other lives depended on her. Moments like these made her understand Jon’s reluctance to switch to gastronomy—especially when they had plans of having children together.

He loved their children. But a feeling wasn’t enough. Making money and buying them toys wasn’t enough. They were all he had, though. Taking them away from him would be cruel. He didn’t know how to be alone. Dany cared for him. He had been there for her during tough times. They had built a life together. So, she always thought she owed him this. But if it was either putting her children or Daario first, she would put her children first, undoubtedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s no easy choice here, no easy path. This will be the topic for the following chapter.


	8. Until when?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The near enemy of love is attachment. Attachment masquerades as love. It says, 'I will love this person because I need them.' Or, 'I’ll love you if you’ll love me back. I’ll love you, but only if you will be the way I want.' This isn’t love at all – it is attachment – and attachment is rigid, it is very different from love."  
-Jack Kornfield
> 
> A quote that might sound familiar because I used it in To Be Alone With You as well. I try to always keep it in mind with my loved ones.

_Seascape Near Berneval by Pierre-Auguste Renoir_

* * *

“Visenya’s been acting weird around me since she saw us that time. I don’t know what else to do,” Daario told Dany in bed after watching a movie with the kids.

She had even been sick to her stomach while he was away. _Could it be anxiety?_ Dany wondered now. She hadn’t eaten anything out of the ordinary that day.

“I don’t know what to do, either,” Dany said, closing The Odyssey in her hands.

“She hits other girls, she insults other girls, she’s puking at night, she doesn’t want to be around me. What can we do?”

When there was a ‘we’, it was a command for her.

“She doesn’t open up to me, either. And we can’t force her to talk.”

“I’ve been all happy with her, telling her I love her, hugging her, kissing her, but she remains distant.”

_Sounds like you’re talking about me, _she wanted to say.

“I think she should go to therapy,” Dany said.

“Therapy?” Daario frowned. “I… I don’t know it seems like too much.”

“I think it’s necessary. Do you have any idea what goes through her mind after seeing what she just saw?” Dany asked. She did. “She needs to come to terms with you. She’ll keep on seeing you as a villain otherwise.”

Daario sighed and held the space between his eyebrows. “Can’t _we_, her parents, help her?”

“You’ve apologized, you’ve bought her toys, but she’s still uncomfortable. There are things she won’t share with us because we’re her parents, we’re the ones she saw having that fight. Daario, it’s better if it’s an expert who helps her out. Then they can also tell us what’s going on with her.”

Daario turned off his night lamp and they got under the covers.

“I’m sad,” he said in a quiet voice, hugging her by the chest.

Dany pursed her lips. “She’s not the only one who’s upset the way you talked to me that night.”

“Dany, I’ve already apologized. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to act that way.”

“I know you didn’t want to act that way and I believe you’re sorry, but…”

He kissed her cheek. “I love you like I love no one else. I don’t want to hurt you in any way.”

“I know, but you keep on having those same attitudes.”

“How long will you keep on punishing me, Dany? My wife and my daughter are so distant.”

He didn’t deserve her consoling. If Visenya wanted to be away from him, it was because he mistreated Dany. But Dany could keep on telling him how much it bothered her for him to be that way and create an argument—and maybe a fight—again, or she could just shut up and return his embrace instead of creating a storm.

She held with both hands the arm that hugged her. In his good moments she always hoped, naively, that he would no longer abuse her. Now, she didn’t hope so. If he hadn’t changed, there was no reason for his good moments to last. 

“I love Visenya,” Daario said.

“I know you do. That’s why she needs all the help she can get. Otherwise, this will only go from bad to worse.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Know any good therapists?”

“I’ll ask around, the teachers in school have good contacts.”

“Don’t say why we’re looking for a therapist, don’t mention what happens between us.” As usual, he wouldn’t risk their image of a perfect couple and family.

“I won’t.” He kissed her cheek. “Any price range?”

“No. The best one out there. Don’t mind the price.”

* * *

“It’s not much,” Jon said as she walked into his flat. “But I don’t need more.”

It had a living room with a built-in kitchen, a balcony, one bedroom, and one bathroom. The balcony caught her eye the most. It was full of plants—orchids, mint, basil, sunflowers, bonsais—and had a small table with a couple of chairs.

“I love it. Since when do you like growing plants?”

“It started off when my therapist recommended me to take care of _something. _A pet, a plant, whatever. Orchids take up the most time, but they’re cool. I even used to have carnivorous plants.”

“No way!”

“It’s actually healing to take care of something. It makes you stay attentive, to focus on another living being, not only on yourself and your sorrows, you know?”

“Absolutely.”

He had a calendar on his fridge with the dates to water every plant, to change their soil and apply their vitamins. There was a notebook on the kitchen counter.

“Recipes and ideas,” he said when he caught her staring at it. He opened it and turned the pages.

“I remember, you had one of these two at home.”

It was full of scratches, highlights, and annotations._ ‘<strike>Three</strike> \- <strike>two</strike> \- two and a half teaspoons,’_ it read. _‘Reminds me of mum’, ‘Arya’s favorite’._

Dany smiled. There was a picture of his family on the wall. All of them lived in different parts of the world now.

She had loved Jon when they lived in a tiny flat when they had no money; and she still loved him now, in his modest home. Didn’t that show her, maybe, that she loved Jon much more than she loved Daario? They lived in a big house together, but that didn’t really matter. She loved Jon as he was. She only loved what Daario represented.

They talked about Jon’s problems at work. He was frustrated because the chef didn’t listen when Jon told him he should be more time in the kitchen. Tonight, he would speak to him alone after all the employees were gone. He was pacing up and down the kitchen in anxiety.

“He’s a piece of shit,” said Jon. “Inconsiderate, selfish, lazy, with no creativity whatsoever…” he said, numbering all the insults with his fingers.

“Absolutely,” she replied. “But you can’t keep on complaining forever. You gotta do something about it or else the situation won’t change. Tonight, you have to finally let him know that you won’t keep up with his shit for much longer.”

“I know, but he has so much power over me,” he threw his head back. “I gotta think carefully what I’ll tell him tonight.”

“You can practice with me. Pretend I’m him.”

Jon hesitated and chuckled. “Okay.”

Dany cleared her throat and sat at the table. Jon sat at the other side.

“So, Jon, why did you want to meet up tonight?” Dany asked him.

“I need to talk to you about the way the kitchen is being handled.”

“Yes, it’s great teamwork. I appreciate your help.”

“It’s not just help…I’m exhausted, you’re never here for rush hours and I’m the one who’s coming up with new recipes on my own…”

“No, both of us have done it together.”

“No. I’ve done it on my own.”

Dany chuckled. “Jon, I think you’re being sort of selfish…what are you trying to say?”

“That I’m the one who does everything! These are my recipes and you take all the credit! It isn’t fair. “

“No, too emotional.” She got out of character. “He’ll set his guard right away. Start with: ‘I _feel _like you’re too absent in the kitchen and I have to do much of the work which should be yours’.”

Jon repeated it.

She got into character again. “Alright, Jon. But, as the owners have told us repeatedly, teamwork is important, we must have each other’s back and fulfill the other’s post if they’re absent.”

“But I’m doing your tasks almost completely. You arrive late, you haven’t created a new recipe in ages, yet I do so on my own. And the owners see me as your assistant. You arrive late, you do half of the work that I do. If things will go on like this, I’ll quit.”

“No, you won’t,” Dany frowned.

“Yes, I will.”

“Jon, I apologize. Do you want a raise? I’ll tell the owners you deserve one. But don’t leave. You’re our best asset here. We’re nothing without you.”

“I don’t want a freaking raise! I deserve to be a chef!”

“Don’t you dare!” Dany stood up. “You can’t take this post away from me.”

“I’ve earned that post!”

“I’ll fire you.”

“The restaurant will be ruined without me. You literally just said that.”

Jon covered his eyes with his fists. “I don’t think he’ll listen to me. I don’t think he’ll change. Do you?”

She hesitated and said, “No. I don’t think so, either. He’ll feel like his job is at stake, or he just won’t think you’re enough of a threat because he gets along so well with the owners.”

“So this is all for nothing?” He sat back down.

“You must talk to him. If you’ll talk to the owners too, you must talk to him first. It’s the right thing to do. You should give him a chance to change before you talk to his superiors. Otherwise, it will feel like some sort of a bad move.”

“Yeah I guess,” Jon said. “But…this sounds like I’m asking him to spend more time in the kitchen. I don’t think that’s the solution. I think he’s just not good enough of a chef. It should be me. In that post. But I don’t want to steal his job, that’s not okay.”

“You’re not stealing his job, you’ve earned it. He’s literally left his job on the side and you’ve taken over not by choice but by force. And you’ve done it much better than him. You’re not stealing anything. This job is already yours.”

“I guess.”

“A few more notes. Don’t raise your voice. The moment you do so, you’re done. Don’t get too emotional. Just let him know the things that you’d like for him to change.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t threaten him. Ever. He has power over you, if you threaten him, it could backfire. And…is he shorter or taller than you?”

“Taller.”

“Then you could talk standing up and him sitting down. Looking up is always a bit more intimidating. Again, you’re not gonna shout at him, you’re not gonna disrespect him, not even a bit, but it hit him harder if he’s looking up at you while you talk to him.”

He wrote it down in his notebook and they performed once more.

She wrote more annotations for him: “Don’t curse. Don’t point at him with your finger. Don’t lean over the table.”

“You’re really good at this.”

She smiled sadly. “You know, I think living with an abuser…makes you learn to choose your words carefully. You know? To avoid being abused. Bukowski said that. And it really hit home.”

“You’re a goddamn warrior,” he said, holding her hand across the table.

She smiled and blinked quickly. “Do… do you have anything to drink? All this talking made me thirsty.”

“Yeah, sure,” he got up. “Water, juice?”

“Water, yeah.”

He served two glasses for them and placed them on the table.

“Do you remember when…” he smiled, “I used to sit on your lap?” He pulled her chair back and sat on her lap. “It annoyed you so bad.”

She chuckled and held his waist. “It did. Because you loved to do so while I ate. And you’re heavy as hell.”

He grinned, tracing kisses from her cheek to her mouth. He lifted her nose with his and gave her a wide kiss. But she let go.

“I’m sorry. I feel weird,” she said quietly.

“Sorry, I’m heavy, I know. You can sit on my lap, though.” He stood up.

She shook her head. “I’m not talking about that I...sorry I can’t do that now, I feel weird.” She raised her glass and drank some water.

“Why?” He sat down next to her.

“It may sound stupid but…this fake argument reminded me of our real arguments.”

And she knew it was irrational, but it also reminded her of her arguments with Daario. She had spent a great deal of her time these past months thinking about her arguments with Daario, but what about the ones with Jon? Infatuation blinds, one focuses on the other’s good traits, but she had to come back down to Earth. Even though they hadn’t argued yet, she knew this pacific situation wouldn’t last forever.

They stayed silent for a while, remembering certain scenes from their past.

“Oh, God. I was a dick sometimes. I’ve said things I regret.”

“So have I.”

“And I couldn’t stand it for you to think in a different way than me.”

“I remember.”

“I’m not the perfect man. I know it. I’ve made many mistakes. I’m sorry.”

“So have I. I was…quite jealous,” she said, looking down at her hands.

He gave her a half-smile. “Sort of.”

“I want to apologize. I was…I was so insecure. Always feared you could find someone better than me.”

“I feared that about you too.”

“But you didn’t show it as much. You could control it.” Dany sighed. “I’m not expecting you to be perfect. You have your faults, I know it. But you’ve always wanted to change and have actually done something about them.” _Unlike him._

“We…we had our wrongs. We made mistakes. And I think that…after it was all over, I could think them through more clearly. My pride wasn’t holding me back from seeing things the way they were.”

They talked for a while about their mistakes: about the time Jon had insisted for her to move in with him when she wasn’t ready, about their arguments on saving or spending when they didn’t have much money. Or minor things: the bickering when they traveled together and he woke up at seven a.m. and she at midday, when he wanted to party and she didn’t, when he snorted coke and she didn’t approve. Now that those conflicts were in the past, it was easier to talk about them and hear the other’s perspective, instead of wanting to win the argument.

“We’ve grown,” she said. “We’re not those kids anymore.”

Conflict would always take part in relationships. We’ve grown, she had told Jon, but she knew that even though those conflicts were in the past now, new ones would arise in their relationship. Especially in a relationship as complicated as theirs.

When Daario told her about his conflicts at work, she was always on his side, even though she wasn’t on the inside. When Daario bought a suit with a tone of blue that looked terrible on him, Dany—the complying wife—told him he looked dashing in it. Dany, the complying wife, had avoided insisting on a nanny for so long to avoid any type of conflict.

“This actually tastes terrible,” she used to tell Jon when she didn’t like a dish of his, or “when you stay up all night, you don’t let me sleep”, or “that beanie doesn’t suit you at all.”

Did the better lover have to be the complying one? The one who never gets angry? Does a healthy couple never argue? Should they leave every conflict pass by, untouched, immaculate, and try to forget it, to push it to the back of their minds…does that make a better couple? Because she and Jon did get angry back in the day. Two different people with different minds, wants and needs could never agree on everything all the time. There was sulking, bickering, and a bunch of fights.

A relationship was full of challenges, it was never static. Sometimes things were great, sometimes they were boring, sometimes they were sexy, sometimes they were annoying. To be in company all the time meant that views would clash often. But where to draw the line?

Some conflicts were necessary, though. If they only complied and accepted everything, there was no opportunity to grow, change, and consider new perspectives. They could even understand the other better, learn more about the other after a conflict. It could also be a negotiation or a settlement, like how often should they have sex. When Dany used to tell Jon to drop engineering but he wanted to stay for the money, that was a recurring conflict. But if she had only complied, how would his life be now?

Other conflicts were destructive, their ends were the conflicts per se, and the two parts just want to win the argument instead of listening to the other’s point of view. Or it was just one trying to hold the other down, to win over them, to dominate the relationship. Most of her arguments with Daario were destructive. Conflicts in relationships were like conflicts in any other aspect of life: they can strengthen it or they can ruin it.

“I think it’s always important to share how we're feeling, even if that might create a conflict,” she said.

“I agree.”

“And yet…”

“And yet?” he asked.

She looked at him. “There’s something we’re still avoiding to discuss.”

He sighed and, supporting his elbows on the table, buried his face in his palms. “I know.”

“This isn’t fair to you, Jon. This situation of uncertainty,” Dany said. “We must talk about this. We’re scared about how our relationship is progressing. We can’t keep on postponing this talk.”

Jon nodded but stayed silent. She placed a hand on the nape of his neck and pressed a couple of kisses on the side of his face.

“Talk to me, Jon, please,” she said quietly, stroking with her thumb the back of his head. “I want to know what goes through your head every day, all your worries and fears. Tell me.”

He took his face out of his hands and she held them on his lap.

“I’m your lover.” He looked straight at her in the eyes. “There’s no way to sugar-coat it. You’re married and I’m your lover. Yes, your marriage isn’t good. Yes, your husband is an asshole. But I’m still…a lover. I’m still the one that comes second.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Don’t ever think that you’re second. You’re first. You’ve always been first in my heart and you still are. You’re not a plan B for whenever I get bored of my husband. The fact that he’s my husband and I have to hide you frustrates me so much. I don’t want to see you as ‘a lover’. And I don’t want you to see yourself as ‘my lover’.”

“I know, it’s just so hard to think that way when I know at night you’re falling asleep next to someone else and living a life next to him. And it’s not just anyone, it’s a fucking asshole—” his voice broke and he shut his eyes with a frown.

“But that should be enough reassurance for you. I mean, what is he next to you? Jon, you’re the one who’s in my mind all the fucking time. You’re the one I'd rather live with. You’re the one I want to make love to every fucking day.”

He smiled softly, raised her hands and kissed them gently. “My dear Dany, I want to cherish my time with you so much because…I’m so afraid this will end tomorrow or next week. I mean, where is this going? The risk…the risk rises by the day. Every day that passes that we’re together, we love each other more... so if we break up, it will hurt more. We’ve already broken up and it hurt like hell. What if we have to do that again? That’s very likely because you have children. They have a father. I’m scared because the day we break up…it will be…_that day_ all over again.”

“Oh god,” she sighed.

“But hear me out. Your family is first. Your kids are first. You must know this: if you have to break up with me, I understand. Because, again, if being with me is doing you more harm than good, if it’s a burden…then I have to take a step back. I love you. When we agreed to do this, we knew this could end.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t want it to end. My husband’s an asshole and I want to leave him.”

“And afterwards?”

“And afterwards, I want to be with you, of course.”

“But…but will that even be possible? I mean, how long will it take? And once you guys break up, what will happen?”

“I’d leave him now if I could but I must plan this carefully. It’s keeping me up at night.” She sighed. “Oh gods, this whole relationship is so unfair to you. You’re waiting for me to leave him. It isn’t fair to you to have all this uncertainty. I want our relationship to go on. But how could I promise you so? I have no idea how the future will be. I don’t even know how next week will be. If this is too much for you, I understand. I understand if you want to cut this off before it gets more painful. I understand if you’re scared my husband might find out.” A tear fell down her cheek. “Oh, Jon, why did I get you into this? I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

“Dany, don’t apologize. I don’t know what Daario has done to you but you don’t have to apologize for everything. We both made this choice. I wanted this as much as you did and I told you I didn’t want to walk away from you, I want to love you. That’s why I’m here. And I’m not gonna leave you just because this might end. We can’t deprive ourselves of doing stuff just because they can, or will, end. Everything ends. Everything in this life is impermanent. But isn’t it good while it lasts?”

She hugged him by the neck and placed her forehead on his shoulder. “What was your plan, when you and I started a relationship? What did you have in mind?”

He stroked her head. “I couldn’t bear for you to suffer that way. If I could be a source of love for you, which you deserve so bad, it would be enough. Even if it were only for a few months. I knew this probably wouldn't last. I knew a break-up could hurt as much as the previous one, if not more. But knowing you’d be better was enough.”

“I can’t believe we got together knowing there’s a high stake this could end. And you did so much for me, anyway… Why? What did you get out of it? Why would you sacrifice so much for someone if there’s a chance we won’t be together in the long term?”

“Because we had that conversation...that time at the beach when we first kissed. That conversation about how love was also letting go if it was necessary to let go. If I only loved you and consoled you expecting you to leave your husband to stay with _me_ to have a long term relationship with _me_...it would’ve been a selfish action. I would’ve done it, in the end, for me.”

“And love is giving,” Dany said. She trailed soft, quiet kisses from his shoulder to his neck.

“We’ve talked about how much you’ve helped me in life, to be the person I am today.”

“Oh Jon, you’re such a good person. That’s why this saddens me. I think you deserve better.”

“What is better?”

She hesitated. “Someone who can be there for you at all times.”

He shook his head. “Dany…”

“Sorry, this just feels so unbalanced! And, yes, of course, I’ll leave him, I’m selling some paintings, I’ll have _some_ money to start over. I just don’t know when and how…but don’t worry, I’ll leave him.”

“Look, _I’m_ not gonna push _you_ to leave him. I don’t want to be one of those boyfriends who pushes the wife to leave her husband. But I do want you to get out of that relationship. Not for us but for yourself. If I walk away and I leave you with Daario, all on your own against him…no…I can’t do that.”

“Jon, don’t feel like you have to be my superhero here.”

“No, that’s not it. I know you’re strong. But that doesn’t mean you have to endure all this on your own. Partners help each other all the time. You’ve helped me before, I’ve helped you before, you’ve helped me again, I’ve helped you again…what’s the problem with that? That’s love. Dany, I’m here for you. I know this is uncertain, I know we’re scared, but I want to keep on seeing you. I want to love you.”

“But un—” it hurt to push out such a risky question out her throat, “until when?”

He pursed his lips. “I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m not gonna tell you that I’ll wait for you forever. I’m not gonna promise you I’ll wait thirty years and when we’re grey and old I’ll still be here waiting for you. Is that what you want to hear? Because I remember we agreed we would be honest with one another, instead of telling the other what they want to hear. If you don’t leave Daario, of course I’ll have to walk away at _some_ point. If years and years pass…I don’t want to end up hurt. I don’t want you to take me down with you. I mean, I want to help you, but if you don’t want help, and if you don’t want to get out of that relationship, then there isn’t much I can do.”

“Yes, I want to get out of it. What you’re saying hurts like hell, but I get it. Letting go can be love. I can’t bind you like this to me and to this situation forever. We can’t fall to that. You gotta be free.”

“And so do you.” He sighed, “I’m not telling you to leave because I want you for me. If you want to divorce him _and_ you want to break up with me and have a life of your own, do so. You know what’s best for you and your kids. But right now, I can promise you I won’t walk away. But I hope you can put yourself first.”

She looked out the window and sighed.

He looked at the time on his phone. “Fuck,” he sighed. “I’m so late for work. How the hell did time fly by so fast?”

He called a coworker and told her to handle the cleaning of the kitchen in his absence. They stood up and before saying goodbye, they locked their arms in a tight embrace than ended with a kiss on the lips. She told him she loved him and he said it back. It seemed like the clock was always ticking for them.

_The Fisherman and the Syren by Frederic Leighton_

* * *

Dany drove Visenya to the psychologist after school. First, Dany spoke to the psychologist on her own. When she explained her behavior problems, one of the first things the psychologist asked her was about the dynamics at home.

“I’d say they’re…complicated.”

“How come?”

“Her dad and I argue often. We lose our temper. She’s seen some stuff…and I know she’s heard a lot too. I don’t know how much, to be honest. But she’s seen him insult me, throw objects at me…and now she doesn’t want to be around him anymore.”

The psychologist then spoke with Visenya on her own and then with Dany again.

“I can tell she’s a good girl. In the evaluations she seems really kind-hearted. But it will be difficult for her to open up, not impossible, though. She’s already talked to me a bit about the fight she saw.” Dany nodded. “You said you both lose your temper, you both fight, but…the way she sees it…it’s mostly him the one who’s aggressive. Is she the only one with this perception?” Dany shook her head, looking down. “You know your husband’s an abuser, do you?” Dany pursed her lips and nodded.

“I’d advise you to seek therapy too.”

“No, I can handle it on my own. Besides, I…” she whispered, as if he were around, “I do want to leave my husband."

"Then what are you waiting for? For it to get worse? For him to punch you?”

“I…I also need money to get out.”

“If you wait for the moment when you finally have enough money to make a life of your own, you’re risking this will escalate. The more time passes, the harder it will be to leave. Remember that. If you have somewhere, anywhere, to go, go there as soon as you can. You have two little kids.”

Dany nodded. “I know,” she said quietly. "But don't you think that...the divorce will also hurt them?"

"Look at your daughter. Do you think she isn't hurt now?" Dany looked down. “You need counseling. Regular divorces are tough. One like yours will be tougher.” She opened a drawer and took out a bunch of brochures. “Support groups and therapists who are specialized in abusive relationships.”

“Thank you, I’ll read these through.”

“Don’t just read them through, call them. Do it for her.”

* * *

A potential client arrived the following morning, after she had dropped the kids off at school. Jon was the only one who knew she was receiving clients at home. He walked around the office, watching every painting silently. Dany leaned against the door frame, telling him to look at whatever he wanted. Some paintings were hung on a thread, some were on the table, one was on the easel, others were leaning against the wall against one another.

He skimmed through some paintings which were leaning against the wall, asking her for the price and looking at the next one. Finally, he lifted up one of them. The Tide.

“This one,” he said. “How much?”

“That one isn’t for sale,” she replied right away.

“What a pity.” He leaned in and watched every detail: the high tide, the ship shining in the middle of the night, sailing through it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “but that’s why I want to keep it.”

He placed it over the table and watched it carefully. “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

He put on his glasses and kept on watching it, down to every corner. “I’ll give you a thousand.”

She stayed silent. “No.”

“Thirteen hundred.”

“No.”

“Fifteen hundred.”

She bit her lower lip. She needed that money. She was in no position to reject offers, especially not high offers.

“It isn’t for sale. But thank you for your interest. I really appreciate it.”

He shook his head. “Are you sure about what you’re saying?”

“Ye-yes.”

“A pity.” He raised his arms and let them fall on his sides. “I guess I should get going, then.” He took his card out of his inner pocket. “If you change your mind, here’s my number.”

“I’ll think about it. Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having me.”

She wouldn’t let The Tide go for less.

When she went back to the studio, she sat down and spun the card in her hands, watching the number and watching The Tide, her creation, her strength for many years. She needed to make a choice. He wouldn’t wait forever. And nor would her kids.


	9. Mothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cage an eagle and it will bite at the wires, be they of iron or of gold.”  
—Henrik Ibsen

_(Another) Painting by Ivan Aivazovsky_

* * *

All of those who were also sitting in a circle in metal chairs suffered from domestic abuse by their partners. There were women abused by men, men abused by women, women abused by women, and men abused by men. Dany’s leg bounced up and down, she knew all eyes were on her, the new one, waiting to know her story.

The woman who moderated the group gave her a warm smile and asked her to introduce herself. She scratched her thumb with the opposite one and replied, “I’m Daenerys.”

“Hi Daenerys,” everyone replied in unison.

She felt out of place. She had seen support groups on TV shows and movies and they never seemed like a place in which she could ever be. But there was no turning back. There was nothing to lose, and maybe a lot to win.

She talked in the order she had practiced in the car: the impediment to work, the blame thrown at her every single time one of the kids misbehaved, the insults—ungrateful, lazy bitch—, the book flying across the room, the times he didn’t allow her to use his credit cards and only gave her cash to make sure she wouldn’t spend money in anything he disapproved of. Her gaze switched from her hands in her lap to the moderator, but never to the others in the group.

After she shared her story, a woman with a black eye replied, “You call that abuse?”

Dany’s blood dropped to her stomach as she looked at her with her mouth agape. She didn’t belong here. She knew it from the moment she started talking. She didn’t fit in.

“Yes, it is,” said the moderator. “I want the rest of you to remember how your relationship was before your partner hit you. Didn’t it start off like Daenerys’?” The room stayed silent. “Abusive relationships are like boiling a frog. When you put a frog in boiling water, it jumps out. However, if you put a frog at normal temperature and gradually increase the heat to its boiling point, the frog won’t jump out. It will die boiled. That’s the same thing that happens in an abusive relationship. Thank you, Daenerys, for sharing your story. It's good you didn't wait until your life was in literal danger to seek help.” Many eyes looked down to the ground, thoughtful.

“Abuse is about control. Abuse is the means, control is the goal of the abuser. We can see it in your relationship as in the others’ here. The methods are different, that’s all. Maybe he’ll never hit you, but maybe he will. The point isn’t just the physical damage. It’s the control.”

Daario’s words rang in her ears: _’You’re manipulating me to do whatever you want. As if you were the queen in here.’_ In his eyes, he was the one who should be in charge, always. Not both. It’s about him and _his_ family and _his_ wife. He can’t deal with her making money, he wouldn’t be able to deal with not being the top charge: not at work, not at home.

After a long silence, Dany decided to go on. “I used to think like you,” she looked at the woman with the black eye. My dad used to beat my mum when I was little, so I used to think of abuse as physical violence.” She looked back at the moderator. “I’ve tried so hard to make this relationship work out. For years. We even went to couples therapy but it only lasted a couple of sessions.” She sighed. “A relationship is of two people. On my side, I’ve done everything I can. So now, this isn’t on me. It’s on him. But he won’t change. I’ve tried so hard to help him heal, to help him change…” her voice broke and she stopped.

“Stop trying to change him. In a healthy relationship, you can help one another grow and change. But in an abusive one, you can only create the context for him to change: leaving him, putting him between a rock and a hard place. He’ll only change if he _has no other choice but to do so. _If you just say you’ll leave him, it won’t be enough, because he knows you’re tied to him. He knows he controls you. If you leave and a long time passes, that’s the way he’ll know you can live without him, that he doesn’t control you. That’s a starting point for change. But it isn’t enough.”

“What is enough, then?” another person asked.

“There are programs to help them out, and to help you out. They must learn, and truly interiorize, the way they hurt others and start caring about treating them better, instead of just caring about themselves. Sadly, many don’t change, so you gotta put yourselves first. For the ones who’ve already left their partner, you must focus on your own healing process, not on his. Many of you are lonely. Reconnect with your friends and family. It’s crucial. Leaving is tough…and it’s also dangerous.” She looked at Dany. “It’s the time that it’s most likely that he’ll hit you, even if he hasn’t done it before.” Some heads nodded.

* * *

On her way back home, she drove along the beachfront and decided to stop. She parked the car and sat on the low wall that separated the asphalt from the sand to take pictures of the waves crashing against the rocks. They were taller than usual, with an intimidating sound, yet rhythmic and harmonic as always.

She closed her arms around her body, with her hands hiding inside the sleeves of her sweater. The wind flew from the sea towards her and beyond, and she hoped it could carry her problems away from her that easily. But nothing and no one would do so. She was the only one who could face them and change them.

If she was able to stand on the beachfront and take these photos now, in the morning, while the kids were at school, it was because when Daario wasn’t around. When he didn’t know what she was doing, she felt the freest. She wouldn’t keep on following his orders while he wasn’t watching. She wouldn’t give him that much power.

Her camera roll was full of similar pictures of the sea. She was looking at more seascapes, scrolling up and up and up among all her pictures, until she bumped into the pictures of her wedding. Their relationship was at their best, back then. They had their time, enough time, but it shouldn’t have kept going. The relationship went from ripe to rotten soon.

They both looked so happy, so young. She was skinnier, had more energy, no back pain. Time, so ruthless and unforgiving, flew by and had trapped her further in this relationship.

Time rushed so quickly and one day, it would all end. She would be dead. Maybe she would die at the age of ninety. Maybe at the age of forty. Whenever it was, time drove her quickly towards that point, towards that specific day. So she had to act now, before days and months and years kept on going by as she passively waited at home for better days to come. Would she keep on spending the rest of her time like this?

A future without Daario seemed like a future with open doors. But a future with him seemed like a future in this same house—or maybe another one even bigger, maybe even in the fanciest condo of the country—but with shut doors. As she sat in front of the sea and sketched it, she knew she never felt better than when she was free.

She took off her ring and turned it with her fingers. What was their marriage, really? It was a tag, nothing else, a tag whose content rotted by the day. And she kept on trying to save it because of a paper she signed years ago. The only reason why she thought she couldn’t be with Jon was that she was married. Was this tag, this inert, abstract idea, more important than real people, of flesh and bone? Was a dead, rotten relationship more important than her, than her kids, than Jon? This tag, “marriage”, and the commitment that came along shouldn’t have to be for life. She had a good reason for it not to, but even if she didn’t, even if Daario wasn’t an abuser and she just didn’t love him anymore, couldn’t it be enough reason to end their marriage? Many couples got divorced for much smaller problems, so what even was the point of marriage in the first place?

She got a text from Jon asking how the support group session had been. She had not seen him the previous morning either, as she had wanted to paint. Maybe she should do that now too. These new pictures of the sea could be of some use. He had also given her the number of a place that made homemade food and delivered it, she was now buying it instead of cooking, and Daario hadn’t realized yet.

As she replied to his text, she remembered the words of the moderator today, saying they should reconnect with their loved ones. She thought about her mother again. Even though they were seeing each other more often, Dany still hadn’t told her anything about her marriage, even though Rhaella was the one who could understand her best. When she had started dating Daario, and when she married him quickly, she had told her mother and friends what a wonderful catch he was. It was embarrassing to tell herself, and others, she had been mistaken.

As she walked back into her car, she called her mother. Dany would go to her house that night, on her own. She would think of an excuse to tell Daario if he asked why she went there on her own without the kids.

* * *

“Why?!” Rhaella frowned, sitting next to Dany in her living room. “Why didn’t you _ever_ tell me this? Why didn’t you leave him?”

Dany looked away, unable to see her mother’s pain in her face. “Because I don’t want to be alone,” she replied silently. “And I doubted my strength. I doubted I could go on on my own with my children. How could I not, if my husband makes me feel like a weak piece of shit every day? With the tiniest, passive-aggressive attitudes.”

Rhaella nodded. “Yeah…you’re right. I know what that’s like.”

“That’s the worst part. Not that he didn’t let me paint or didn’t pay for a nanny. The worst part was that he made me believe that I wasn’t good enough to make a living out of it. If someone just tells you, ‘don’t paint’, you’ll tell him to piss off and will keep on painting, eventually you’ll leave him. But he made me believe I was worthless: reminding me I’m not Van Gogh, calling me ungrateful or lazy, good for nothing…so I didn’t fight. I hate that I fell for it. I hate a part of myself for that.”

“Don’t beat yourself up for that. Leave behind the guilt and shame and go on.”

“Tell me.” Dany cried. “Tell me ‘I told you’. Tell me you knew better.”

Rhaella shook her head. “I won’t. I wish you would’ve listened to me. I always thought Daario was a narcissist asshole. I’m proud of you for opening your eyes before things got worse. However, if you had listened to me, you might have opened them earlier.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to open them.”

“Now that you’ve done so, it’s time to fight. The enigmas that are the hardest to unravel are the ones we hide from ourselves, not from others.” Rhaella held Dany’s hands. “Thank you for telling me and for trusting me enough.”

Dany nodded. “I haven’t been too close to you these past years. I’m sorry. I hope we can put that behind.”

“Of course we can. I myself haven’t been too active in seeking you, either. I gave up. But allow me to be your guide again, your mentor, like when you were little. I wish I would’ve had a mentor when I was going through this. We can’t go throughout life without guides, we must learn from those who’ve learned before and might know more.”

“Yes, mum. I’m missing out on so much for not having you in my life.”

“I will leave Daario. I will move to a small flat with the kids. I’m searching for a job right now, any job. Daario will have to pay for the kids, anyway, but I’ll have to pay the rent of a place and for all my personal expenses.” She shut her eyes and rested her head back against the seat.

“You’ll live with me. You and the kids,” Rhaella said. Dany shook her head. “There’s not much space, I know, but we can figure a way to—”

Dany shook her head again. “No.”

“Why?! Dany I’m offering you a way out.”

“No,” Dany turned her head to her window, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t des—what do you _mean_?”

“I don’t deserve it, mum. You’ve done _so_ much for me. So much. And I haven’t been grateful enough. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t keep on doing so. I shouldn’t keep on being a burden to you. I’m not a kid anymore, it’s not fair to you to do so much for me—”

“Daenerys, you’re my daughter," Rhaella said sharply. "Would I have preferred for you to be more grateful? A better listener? Yes. But the fact that I’ve done much for you doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep on doing so! It doesn’t mean you’re in debt to me. Look at me.” Dany hesitated and turned to her. “I’m your mother. I will always love you. No matter what you do. No matter if you succeed or fail. No matter if you hate me. I’ll always love you. And I’m here for you,_ especially_ in a situation like this one. Come with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Dany, I know I haven’t been the best mum in the world. My pain consumed me, and I tried not to spend much time with you guys because I didn’t want to reflect my pain in you…I…I regret distancing myself before…I thought that was why you were doing so too as an adult.”

“No mum, no…now that I’m a mother I recognize everything you’ve done for me. You’ve cleaned my bottom, you’ve fed me every day, you haven’t been able to sleep for more than two straight hours because of my cries. And I’ve only seen the things about you that…weren’t to my liking, because I feared you were right. And I wanted so bad for you not to be right. Because if you were…it meant starting a life over again. I’d already done that when I moved to King’s Landing. If you were right…it meant I had to amend my mistakes…”

Dany cried. Rhaella hugged her and kissed her head, but she didn’t cry. Dany felt like Visenya when she cried in her arms and Dany swallowed her cries to be strong for her daughter.

Dany met her gaze. “Don’t you feel like crying, mum?”

Rhaella nodded silently. Dany hugged her mother by the shoulders. Rhaella sniffed and hugged her tighter. Mothers deserved to take off their masks too every once in a while.

“How is he treating you now?” Rhaella asked.

“He’s been actually quite nice since he came back from his trip,” Dany replied. “You know, before, when he had these good days…I fell in love with him again. I thought he might become again what he was when we started dating. Now I know nothing's changed because _he_ hasn’t changed. There’s no reason, then, for this period to be a reflection of his new character. It’s just that he missed us while he was away.” She sighed. “I have nothing left to give. I’ve put on a smile for him even when he treated me like shit to avoid fights, for my kids to have a peaceful home. I’ve stopped painting. I’ve stopped making money. I’ve stopped seeing friends. I’ve had sex with him when I didn’t want to. I cooked for him, washed his clothes, cleaned his house. If love is giving, and I have nothing left to give, then how is there a chance to go on here?”

They didn’t let go of their hug. Rhaella stroked Dany’s head as she cried. She was tired of crying. She had done so countless times the past months. Now that it was all out, she had to start packing her suitcases.

“These will be the hardest times for you,” her mother said. “The moment when you leave will be the moment he’ll realize he can lose you. He needs to know that you can go on without him. He can’t fathom that. He wouldn’t treat you this way if he knew you could get out.”

Her words were so similar to what the moderator had said in the support group. Dany had had Rhaella a phone call away for years, and embarrassment had held her back from so much learning from her own mother.

“Do you think he’ll hit me?” Dany asked.

“Who knows. He could beg you not to go, instead of hitting you. He’s gonna cry a lot. Like a baby. Remember that. Don’t let it get to you. He’s manipulated you enough for years, don’t let him do that again.”

She nodded. “I’m so nervous. I know it will hurt like hell.”

“Yes, it will. But remember, there’s much more to win than there’s to lose. Think about it, what will you lose?”

“My husband…my lifestyle…many of my things too, I guess.”

“And to win?”

Dany looked out the window. “Freedom.” She could win her life back. “But it’s scary. Standing on my own feet. With two kids. I’ve never done it.”

“You’ve never done it? Dany, you’ve been doing so all along, besides protecting them from him and his behavior…”

“Yes, but also…freedom in the financial sense…” She sighed. “Mum, I want to keep on painting. I’ll sell my paintings. But if I can’t really make money out of it…I’ll wait tables if I have to. I love to paint, but it can’t be a priority over my kids’ quality of life. I’ll still paint in my free time, though.”

“As long as you don’t drop it completely again, it’s alright.”

“Yeah, I guess…but there’s something else you should know.”

“Tell me, love.”

“Do you remember Jon?”

“Jon?”

“My ex-boyfriend.”

“Right, Jon! Haven’t heard his name in ages.”

“He’s living in King’s Landing.” Rhaella stayed silent, looking at her. Dany nodded. Rhaella replied with a frown. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while.”

“Oh, Gods!” Rhaella covered her face with her hands. “How much has happened?”

“A lot.”

“A lo—_Dany_. You’re making things more difficult for yourself. Is this thing over or ongoing?”

“Ongoing.”

“And you want to keep on dating him?”

“Yes.” She stayed silent. “I don’t wanna tell Daario.”

“The hell you’re telling Daario. He’ll kill you both!”

“I don’t think so. He cares too much about his reputation to murder anyone.”

They both chuckled.

“Are you leaving him for Jon, then?” Rhaella asked.

“No. I’m leaving him because he’s an asshole. With or without Jon, I’m leaving him. I’m not gonna lie, at the start I did want to leave him to be with Jon, but I’ve realized, being with Jon is just a plus, what matters the most is to be free. And to stand up for myself from a man who doesn’t respect me.”

“Gods, Dany. You’ve gotten yourself into a bigger problem.”

“It won’t be easy,” Dany said, “but Jon is anything but a problem.” Her mother stayed silent. “Will I still be able to count on you about all this?”

“Yes, always,” Rhaella replied.

_The Three Ages of Woman _by Gustav Klimt

* * *

She only had a couple of hours in the morning to see Jon, but when she needed to paint, there was no home-alone time to waste. But The Tide caught her eye. It was watching her, leaning back against the wall on the ground. Her favorite painting. And someone else wanted it. He wanted to pay good money for it. She dropped her paintbrush in the cup of water and was drawn towards The Tide. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, in front of it. The boat, with sailors surely striving to survive, was small, but the dominant element of the painting anyway. It was the most powerful bit of it. The rest of the painting revolved around it. It was the only source of light, besides the guiding moon.

She had just wanted to paint a roaring sea, but she knew how much of herself she saw in that boat. How much she wanted to be free at high seas, even if that meant struggling that way. She knew how that sailor inside that boat had improved his skills after surviving that storm.

She had been in much pain when she painted it. The artist wasn’t only a discoverer of beauty in the ordinary, but was also in charge of a metamorphose from misery to beauty.

She grabbed her phone and called the seller.

“It’s me. Daenerys, the painter.” It felt amazing to describe herself that way.

“Have you made your mind?”

She sighed, holding pressing her inner brows with a frown. “Can I ask you something, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you want to buy this painting so much?”

“It’s great.”

“But…do you want to buy it only because of…the technique? What do you see when you see it?” She asked as she stared at The Tide face to face.

He exhaled and stayed silent. “Life, light, pressing on through the hide tide and darkness…my life after my son died, basically.” She stayed silent to let him talk more. “I thought about dying too, more often than not. Life is tough, but it must go on.”

Dany nodded, staring at The Tide. It could leave. She had painted the pain away.

“Alright. Two thousand,” she said.

“Fifteen hundred.”

“This is my most precious painting. Two thousand.”

“Seventeen hundred.”

Her leg bounced quickly as she looked up at the roof. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Okay. Should I roll it up?”

“Please. When can I pick it up?”

“Today, before seven p.m.”

“I’ll be there.”

When she didn’t have it anymore, she cried. Letting go was never easy, not when it came to lovers, children nor paintings.

* * *

The following morning, she went to Jon’s place. He had woken up early to practice the process of the vegan dish he had just made and would show the owners. Talking to the chef had been completely useless, he said. He didn’t change at all, just like Jon thought would happen. So he would talk to the owners now in private. Given Dany’s advice, he would show them that this recipe was his and not the chef’s to have at least one proof that he was the one truly in charge of the kitchen and the new recipes.

She watched him as he chopped vegetables and dropped tofu on a frying pan. It was a violent place, the kitchen. Every ingredient was smashed, cut, ripped, peeled, burnt, boiled, or fried. Cooking is a destruction that brought a rebirth, and the outcome was better than the original input.

He placed two dishes for them on the table and sat next to her. “I know it’s a little early to eat lunch, but at least let me know what you think.”

She tried it. The tofu was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, but the seasoning made her flinch. “Too spicy.”

“That’s the idea,” he said, putting a piece of tofu in his mouth.

She shook her head. “The taste is too strong.”

Jon wrote it down in his notebook. “It should be strong. But you…you’ve never liked spicy food.”

“Just…get someone else’s opinion. ‘Cause I…I wouldn’t buy this, but I’m not the right judge for this kind of food.”

“Thank you for the honesty,” he replied.

“Well, I prefer honest opinions about my work too instead of just _‘I love it’_s.”

“It’s more difficult to criticize paintings, I think.”

She couldn’t stop thinking about The Tide. It felt like a part of her went missing. “Do you remember that painting I showed you that time we had sex for the first time? I mean, for the first time in a decade.”

“Which of them all?”

“My favorite one. The tide.”

“Yes.”

“I just sold it.”

Jon’s eyes widened. “What? Your favorite painting?”

“Yes.”

“Why?!”

“I need money.”

“You don’t have to sell what you don’t want to sell.”

“I’m not in a position where I can decline income. Weren’t you telling me to be free and grow and leave him? Well, if I don’t make money, I can’t leave.”

“He’s entitled to provide for the kids even after a divorce.”

“Yes, _for the kids_. I need money for different things: from painting tools to rent to gas and so many other personal expenses. I don’t want to take a penny of it for myself.”

He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think you should be selling every painting you make.”

“Jon, you sell _every_ dish you make.”

“Because dishes are meant to be eaten.” He looked at her dish, intact. “Well, you don’t have to eat that one, though.”

She chuckled and pushed it towards him. “Well, it’s the same with paintings. They’re meant to be hung and appreciated. You yourself have told me so. But also, art is supposed to move and transform people. That painting has already transformed me. I’ll gladly let it transform someone else now.”

Jon nodded and took another bite of his food. “Does this transform anyone?”

She smiled. “Maybe, but not me.”

He laughed and ate more. “Well, it will transform my tummy into a bigger tummy.”

She laughed. “So be it.”

“Do you have a place to stay, by the way? Once you leave him.”

“With my mum, yes.”

He nodded. “I was going to tell you to come here if you wanted to but…”

She chuckled. “Complicated.”

“Yeah,” he laughed.

She only bit her lower lip and looked down at her hands.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

“Not really,” she sighed. “I’m pissed. At myself. For being in this situation for the stupid mistakes I made in my youth. I wouldn't have to go through all this...I wouldn't have had to sell The fucking Tide if I hadn't gone through this.”

“Well, you wouldn't have had even made The Tide in the first place. Yes, this situation is shit, but it's forging you into such a strong person." Like the sailor in the painting, she thought. "And it’s not _your _mistake that your husband’s an abuser.”

“No, but falling for a man who I didn’t take the time to know well was a mistake of mine, and so was trying to forget, to replace someone with another person, putting sex above everything, thinking that his charming side was his whole personality… and I just don’t want these mistakes to be a life sentence. Besides painting more I’ve also been reading more, so many novels and plays I used to love, and I couldn’t help noticing that in most greek or Shakespearean tragedies mistakes are life sentences.”

Jon shook his head. “Well, you choose if you’ll make it a life sentence or not. Will you punish yourself your entire life for a mistake? You make amends and you move on. You fucked up, you work hard to unfuck it up as much as you can. You learn from that mistake. You apologize, you forgive, and you move on. You know now you won’t trust people that easily, you won’t let others into your life that easily. You know that you will take more care of yourself from now on. You amend your mistakes every day with your actions.” He sighed. “I made a mistake as well. I didn’t try hard enough to come to King’s Landing. I let my work consume me. I know, I was doing it for myself, but I could’ve tried harder. I lost my girlfriend, my best friend, my most trusted companion. I regretted it for years, and I thought that…being such a bad boyfriend, a bad lover, I’d also have a life sentence: of loneliness, with failing relationships, with sex only and not lasting love. But I was the one who was putting that life sentence to myself, wasn’t I? I didn’t try hard enough to grow, love-wise, because I thought I wouldn’t be able to. But now we’re here and I remembered everything we did for one another and…I had hope that it was possible to grow, to be a better lover and person. We’re not doomed. We choose with our actions what our fates will be. Don’t beat yourself up for that, just move on.”

Dany sighed. Her mother had told her something similar. But guilt was so consuming.

“I wanna move on and leave this life behind,” Dany said.

“Look, I—” Jon exhaled. “There’s more I wanna say. Things have to be clear here. The fewer uncertainties there are between us, the better. After this is all over, do you still want to be with me? Openly. No more secrets.”

“I’d love to. But my kids…I don’t want them to think that I left their father for another man. When you’re a mother, the decisions you make aren’t only about you. Two human beings depend on every choice I make. I’d love to keep on dating you but…then what? On the long run. I’ll break up with Daario, you and I will keep on dating, and then? ‘Just dating’ is never the last step in a relationship. There’s always more afterwards: moving in together, getting married—I…I’m not saying we should do that…I—I…” she stuttered, “I mean, I want to be with you always. But…what plans do you have for the long run?”

“Well, if everything works out well and this gets more serious with time, then, of course, I’d love to take the next step with you. To move in together. With your kids. If _you _are okay with that.”

“As a—as a stepdad?” she frowned in curiosity.

He nodded. “I…I’m just putting it out there. If you don’t want to, it’s okay. They’re your kids. I know I’ve never raised a child but…I’ll try…I’ll try my best. I’ll do the best I can.”

“Jon,” she covered her face with her hands. “Do you have any idea of the responsibility…Jon…these aren’t even your kids…”

“And? Dany, I love you. We’ve lived together already. We know we’re good for one another. Yes, years have passed, and now taking you means taking two more people, people who need raising and caring. I know it isn’t easy. But I love you and I want to be with you. And by extension, I’ll love those who you love the most.”

“They’re not your kids.”

“And since when does one only love and care about their own kids? Don’t you love your nieces, your nephews? The kids of your friends?”

“You’ll love the kids of a different man?”

He turned his body to face her. “The kids and Daario are different people. What does he have to do in all this? Look around you. There are thousands of stepdads and stepmums out there. People move on after divorces. They fall in love again. Families change. You don’t have to be stuck to Daario just because he’s the father. You could also be a single mum if you want to, you’ll be a great one, so you don’t _have_ to come with me. But I’m just putting it on the table because sooner or later we’ll have to talk about this.”

“Think well what you’re saying, Jon.”

“I have. I’ve thought about it since we started dating. I’m willing to take this leap of faith. I’m willing to take you and your kids, and the likely future feud with your husband. But only if you want to. Only if you decide that this is the best for you and your family.”

How she wished he would only tell her “come with me!” instead of giving her a choice. Freedom to choose implied so much responsibility! Daario made most decisions at home, at least the big ones, the financial ones. This was probably the most important decision of her life: leaving her husband, straying their kids away from him—in their daily life, at least.

She said, “It would be a dream come true, to make a new life with the people I love the most in the world: them and you.”

She chuckled.

“What?” He smiled.

“I’m picturing you at the birthday parties, you would laugh your ass off…surrounded by all the rich mums and the things they talk about.”

“Oh, it’s fine!" He grinned. "I’ll make them some brunch, with some gluten-free and vegan stuff and some quinoa. They’ll love me.” Dany laughed. “At least I know some things we have in common, your kids and I.”

“And what is that?”

“We love Ratatouille,” he said. She laughed. “And we love you.”

“And I love the three of you.” She was sure he’d be great as a stepdad. “Oh, Jon. I want to be with you always. You have no idea how strong this desire is…but you must understand, I gotta think this through carefully. What I want to do and what I feel for you isn’t everything I must take into account to make this decision. I have to think about what’s best for me and my family, despite my feelings. Maybe being with you will stir up the future conflict I’ll have with Daario, I don’t want that to affect the kids in any way. We’ll see. But I’d love to live with you. It would make me the happiest woman in the world.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I feel the same way. Dany, I’m not gonna push you to do anything. I’m just offering you a choice. I understand if you don’t want to be in a relationship after breaking up with him. Just make sure to keep on going, to grow out of that house. Because, of course, you can be on your own. And you can develop yourself on your own. And learn how to be alone. And all that.” A tear fell off his eye. “Sorry, it hurts to say those words out loud.”

She wiped it with her thumb and said, “It hurts to hear them too. How I wish you’d get on your knees and beg me to come with you, telling me that you can’t live without me…” She sighed. “But telling me that if I want, I could be on my own…it hurts, but it’s the best thing you could tell me. And I love you for that.”

Being ready to let go, yet _again,_ was another act of love: putting her well-being first, instead of his wish to be with her. Just like letting her go a decade ago.

“I want to be with you so bad," Jon said. "It drives me crazy at night, before going to sleep, but despite how I feel…I know I must give you a choice. Don’t give me an answer now. Think it through.”

She sighed. “I will. I have to learn that what hurts isn’t necessarily bad, and what feels good isn’t necessarily good.”

He nodded. “I can see that, right now.”

“That’s another mistake I’ve made in my life too often, letting emotions take over, but emotions don’t care about what’s good or bad for you. My husband makes me feel good many times, so I stay. Sometimes he makes me feel bad and I want to leave. But then I remember how good he makes me feel other times and I stay. Emotions can’t guide our lives. I was foolish to let them do so. That was my mistake. I don’t want to keep on making the same mistakes. I’ll make big decisions more cold-headed from now on, thinking about what really is best for me and my family, not about what makes me _feel _good.” She lifted his face from his chin and locked her gaze with his. “Don’t get me wrong, you don’t just make me feel good, you _are _good for me. You have no idea how good you are for me. But, you're right, I gotta think about my entire family’s well-being, and for me to introduce a new man to my kids…that might take some time.”

Jon nodded. “I know it’s not gonna be easy. But it’s worth the try.”

“You’ve made my day by telling me that you want to be with me, with _us_, in the long run. You have no idea how happy I am…and how much I want to make love to you right now,” she smiled.

He held the sides of her face and kissed her lips. She stood up from her chair and sat on his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all doing well during this worldwide crisis, health-wise and job-wise. Best wishes.


	10. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogues between Jon and Dany to follow the one from the previous chapter :)

_The Dark Rigi, the Lake of Lucerne by J. M. W. Turner_

* * *

Jon walked back into his bedroom, naked, with two glasses of cold water for him and Dany. The restaurant didn’t open on Thursdays, so they had more time today than usual.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting up on the bed, exhausted.

He sat next to her with a playful smile. “You like a finger back there more that you used to, don’t you?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, but your skills have improved so much these years.”

“Really? Was I that bad back then?” he joked.

“No!” She laughed. “You never were, but you’re just insanely better now. Apparently you’ve practiced quite a bit with the ‘many’ women you said you had banged over the years.”

He blushed and looked down with a smile. “Yeah, I guess. But I had missed sex with love. Hadn’t had it in a while.”

“Yeah, same,” she replied.

He leaned towards her and pressed a tiny kiss on her lips. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” She grinned.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Okay.” She chuckled. “Yeah, I’m a little jealous. But I’m glad you got laid on the regular. It takes your mind off things, it makes you feel loved at least for a little while…”

“Yeah. I think sex can be a good escape from loneliness. It isn’t a long escape, though,” he said.

“Totally. My relationship with Daario started as something sexual. We were both lonely people. But with time it became a very empty act, I think. Oh god, I’m sure in these nine years you’ve had more sex than me. Even though I’m the married one. Sex, with time, became a burden.”

“I hate to hear you say that.”

She placed her arms over his shoulders. “That’s why I hope in these nine years you’ve had plenty of orgasms. ”

He chuckled. “Well, yeah, I had plenty. You wouldn’t have recognized me. I had so much sex. I tried out threesomes and other things I’d never done before. I was at bars and clubs _all the time_, just looking for someone to take home with me.”

“Gods, I should have partied more, then.”

He laughed. “You absolutely should have. We could have met before and saved up a lot of trouble.” She chuckled, but that joke stung in her chest. “Well, then I had a girlfriend for a couple of years, and after we broke up, I cooled down a little bit. I’ve gotten laid less these past couple of years.”

He lay back on the mattress and caressed her inner thigh with his thumb.

“How was your relationship?” she asked.

He exhaled. “Well, we had a good time. She’s nice, she’s a journalist. We met at a restaurant I was working at. She interviewed the chef and I was there, just a cook, but she talked to me after the interview was over when I was on a break. We couldn’t talk for long, but she gave me her number, and that night we went out for a drink and fucked like there was no tomorrow.” Dany laughed. “You know, I think that if someone treats you well and fucks you well it’s very easy to fall in love.”

“I agree.” She thought about Daario again. “And why did you guys break up? Who broke up with who?”

He broke her gaze and looked up at the roof. “She broke up with me. Nothing terrible happened, no big fight. It was just over. But I do think, she’s never told me so, but I do think that I wasn’t enough… or she didn’t _see_ me as enough for her.”

“Enough how?”

He sighed. “I didn’t fit into her definition of success, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He pursed his lips. “I guess I didn’t fit into the archetype that people have for a life-long partner. Who says, ‘I want my future husband to be a cook at a mildly good restaurant’?” She had felt the same way, being a painter. Money usually played a big role. “I’m better off now, but when I was just a cook, it was clear. The women I dated didn't want to take things much further. ”

They both chuckled.

“I was so different from Daario when we met,” she said. He turned his body to face her. “He was an expert in finance, in economics, in history. I was taken aback by how intelligent he was. _Is_. It was so…flattering…so uplifting that someone like him had fallen in love with me, that he desired me so much. _Me_, you know, a painter who could barely pay for her rent and food,” she chuckled.

“I’m sure he fell in love with you because you’re amazing. It’s so easy to fall in love with you.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he never wanted me to be as successful as him, or to be in the same ‘level’ as him. He always wants to be on top, everyone else must come second. Who says ‘I want my future wife to be a painter who can barely pay the bills’? Someone like him, probably.”

“Maybe it was both, I mean, maybe he fell in love with you because you’re amazing, and _because _you’re amazing he wanted to bind you, and he saw that as an opportunity to do so.”

“Maybe,” she said. She lay down and hugged him by the abdomen. She didn’t want to spend so much time with Jon thinking about Daario. “Sorry, we were talking about you. You were telling me about your break-up. She broke up with you, then.”

He nodded. “Yeah. To be honest, I wouldn’t have broken up with her, even though we were just ‘alright’ together and there wasn’t much in our relationship. We made each other company, we had someone to come home to at the end of the day, to cuddle with while watching TV, and to have sex with. I probably would have married her.” Dany placed her chin on his chest and smiled sadly at him. “Now I realize, though, why should I settle for someone with whom I’m not having the time of my life? Because I _neeeed_ to be in a relationship?” He placed his arm over her shoulders.

“I know exactly what you mean,” she sighed. “The panorama in relationships is crazy, if you think about it,” Dany said. “Everybody searches for one their entire lives and are miserable when they’re single, so they settle for an alright relationship, even if they’re just ‘like’ the other and aren’t too in love with them. Even though I don’t think we have only one person _destined_ for us, we don’t have to lower our standards to the fucking ground, either.”

“Yeah. I think people give much more importance to having a partner than what it deserves. It’s nice to have one, but it isn’t necessary. There are so many other things one can do to be satisfied with their life. My work has made me so productive and happy while single. I also traveled, had a good group of friends…I didn’t need a partner with me at all times. Nor a sex partner. What do we really _need_ in life? What do we really _need_ to survive? Food and water. Everything else, you can live without it. So I stopped searching for you.” He looked at her. “And eventually, I stopped dreaming with you.”

She caressed his beardy chin. “Eventually, I thought about you less, too. You became a distant memory. But when we met again…Gods, it was like a waterfall flooded me with all my love for you all over again.”

“My knees were weak that day, literally,” he chuckled. “I was afraid I would fall to the ground from the shock,” he chuckled. “But still, I saw you with your kids, so I was trying to keep in mind that nothing would happen between us.”

“And look at us now,” she chuckled. “Not only a lot happened between us, but we’re contemplating a future together.”

“I know! I want to be in a relationship with you so bad!” he said. “But what I’m trying to keep in mind now is that people change, relationships mutate, people fall in love with other people, people get bored of each other, so relationships can end at any time. And we should be okay with that, instead of lying to ourselves, saying: ‘I know I will love her forever’, or ‘I know she will love me forever’. We can’t know that. Love is a feeling. Feelings come and go involuntarily. We don’t decide what to feel. I wish I could be with you until the last of our days, but there is a chance that this will last only a bunch of more weeks.”

She nodded, looking at the wall to break the pain in their gazes. “It would hurt like hell, but we will move on. We didn’t do so quite well the first time, but we’ve grown, we’ve learned a lot about love and about letting go. We won’t fall for the same mistakes, like when I wanted another person to fill the void of my ex.” She sighed. “I want to be with you forever. And I’m just so tense all the time, fearing I’ll lose you again.”

“Me too. I fear that so much, despite my beliefs,” he said. She lowered her head and kissed his lips softly. “What are you thinking?”

“A part of me wants you to need me…but another part knows that’s not okay,” she said quietly.

He pushed the back of her head down to kiss her again.

“A part of me wants the same,” he replied softly. “But no one needs any person in particular, do they? People _think_ they need others. But not really. I thought I needed you but, eventually, I was just fine without you. It was not a need, only a strong wish. As it is now.”

The sun was shining bright, so they put on their clothes and went to the balcony to sit at the table. They placed their chairs right next to each other and he covered her shoulders with his arm. She looked at the orchid she liked. Its petals had fallen off.

“You’ve made me think about my kids,” she said, staring at the sunrays bathing the city below them. “It’s a selfless love, having children. The most selfless of them all. But a lot of parents forget it. They want their children to do what they want, to study what they want, to act and dress the way they want. The job of a parent is to raise them so that they are strong enough to go through life by themselves: for them not to need you anymore. That is the most selfless, the least possessive love there is. And they teach me more about this every day, without knowing.

“But…my happiness depends on the amount of love my kids give me. One day they’ll leave the house. Their growth is a process of letting go of me: from the moment they came out of me, it’s like they slowly leave more and more. It seems easier for them that it is for me. I wish I could always know what they’re up to, I wish I could always protect them, but they have to learn to live on their own, too.” She breathed. “I need to do something for myself. I need to keep on painting. Even if I have to work doing something else, I still want to keep on doing other activities that make _my life_ worth living, regardless of who loves me and who doesn’t.”

“That’s perfect. However I can, I want to help.” He rubbed her shoulder. “You don’t have to do everything alone. Being a single mum and working and raising the kids, I know it’s a lot. You can have extra hands here.”

A part of her knew it was important to learn to be on her own, but the other part of her knew that, on her own, it would be much more difficult to raise the kids _and _work _and _develop other abilities. And that part of her also knew how good she and Jon were for one another.

“It’s too much responsibility to give to you, it’s a heavy burden,” she said.

“Come on, it would be nice to have a family. It’s not like my life is perfect right now, a guy who lives alone with his plants. Don’t see it as a burden. Yes, it will be tough and I’ll have new challenges, but you won’t make my life more miserable, you would make my life so much better.” She smiled, his words were an echo of hers some months ago. “But I know you want time for yourself, to be on your own.”

“I’ve told you before that I feel like this is an unbalanced relationship. You’re waiting for me to break up with him…how could I still ask you for more time afterwards? You deserve better.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“I'm binding you to me in a terrible moment, and I don't know how long it will last." She breathed deeply. "If you want to date other women in the meantime, you can.”

“But I don’t want to! Why would I?”

“I don’t know!” She covered her face with her hands. “I want you to wait for me and be there for me but this just feels so unfair to you!”

“You’re a mother, I get it. I mean, if I date someone with kids I obviously know you’ll put your kids first in every situation. I signed up for a complicated relationship, didn’t I? But if you want to be alone, tell me so.”

She turned her face to his and placed a long kiss on his cheek, pressing the other side of his face towards her.

“I want to live with you and my kids. That’s what I want the most.”

“Me too.”

“But I still haven’t figured out if it’s what I _must _do. Should I…be alone for a while? I don’t know.”

“I cannot tell you that. Only you can know.”

He placed his elbows on his lap and his forehead on his hands. She caressed his back.

“I don’t want to hurt you like this,” she said.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t make choices only thinking about what I want.” He breathed deeply. “There’s just so much going on, I’m anxious all the time. Besides this, I might talk to the owners of the restaurant soon. There’s a chance I’ll get fired. I know this is what I gotta do, but…” He sighed. “Unemployment is frightening.”

She placed her hand on his leg and rubbed it softly. “I’m sure they’ll understand. You have a strong case. And even if they let you go, I’ll help out however I can to find a new job. But I’m glad you’re standing up for yourself instead of keeping up with such an unfair situation. I mean, if you didn’t try, if you didn’t do anything about it, were you going to spend your entire life like that? Overworking and underpaid?”

He sighed. “I would like to think I would have quit at some point, but I don’t know. I’m scared of being unemployed again in such a competitive sector.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Life of the artist, huh?”

He chuckled sadly. She hugged him closer to her. 

“Well, we chose these jobs. We knew this wouldn’t be easy,” he said.

“We did,” she said, thinking about more than their work life. “I’m looking for jobs everywhere, I’m trying to sell more paintings, I’ve bought a couple of mattresses that will arrive at my mother’s house next week, and I’ve already taken some of my clothes and other belongings there. Daario hasn’t noticed. Of course he hasn’t.”

“It’s finally happening,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Scared shitless. His reaction will be crucial to know if we’ll be able to be together or not. He could try to forbid me to ever date anyone else ever again.”

“A bit unfair, don’t you think? Would he still control you _even _after you’ve left him?”

“I hope he doesn’t. I hope I can live my life without giving a shit about what he wants me to do. And I hope _he _can live a life without giving a shit about what I do. But I’ll live with his kids, so he’ll always have to be around. If he becomes too aggressive, I’ll have to keep him away from the kids. And I don’t want that for him nor them.”

“If he becomes jealous and aggressive and a bigger asshole, and because of that you must cut him off completely, that’s his problem, not yours. He’s the one who needs to change and to understand that you can and should have a life without him.”

“I know, yes. But still, I’m afraid of making a promise to you, and then not be able to fulfill it. I want to say we’ll be together and live together, but what if we can’t?” she thought out loud. She wanted to give him an answer soon, anyway, she didn’t want him to have so much uncertainty all the time.

She kissed his neck and then his cheek.

“I want to feel that this is enough, instead of wanting so much more…” he sighed, rubbing her shoulder. “We always want more, don’t we? When I met you again, all I wanted was to hold you again, to see how you were doing, to love you the way you deserved it, but now…it just doesn’t seem enough. Now I want a life with you. But... despite how difficult this situation is, I’m happy we’re here. I’m happy this happened.” He chuckled. “And I’m glad I didn’t marry her.”

She smiled. “I’m so glad you didn’t.” She looked at her ringless finger. Whenever she saw Jon, she liked to take it off and naively hide to him and to herself that she was married. “Marriage…isn’t the concept of marriage fucked up?”

He laughed. “How come?”

“I mean, how bad does your relationship have to be that signing a contract is your way to prove you love the other person and you want to be with them always? Signing a fucking contract? That’s the least romantic thing I could think of. There was no signature in our relationship, and yet our relationship was stronger and had more chances to last our entire lives than my relationship with Daario. Daario and I wanted the other to be ours and have an assurance they wouldn’t leave, so we signed a paper. It assured me that with this guy, I wouldn’t go through the excruciating pain I went through when I had to separate from my ex-boyfriend.

“Signing a paper, is that really what couples think love means?" she went on. "That and a few vows which every couple repeats in the same way? And what’s that need to _bind_ them to you? If one day you stop being in love with me, or you start to loath me, or you fall in love with someone else…why would I want you to still be here with me? It’d hurt me like hell, of course, but why would we still be together if one doesn’t want to anymore? What’s the need to assure that the other will be here till your death, even if you don’t love each other anymore, even if you have different projects in life and must separate, or whatever? There are many ways to assure the other you want to be with them always that don’t need a binding signature. But still, maybe what’s important isn’t the duration of a relationship but its quality. Even if this doesn’t work out, I think a short relationship with you is worth more than an entire life with Daario.”

He nodded. "I feel the same way. These past months with you have made me grow much more than all that time with my ex."

Dany pressed a kiss to his lips and they both stared off at the city below them. One day they would stop hiding and would walk down that city holding hands.

_Paolo and Francesca by Anselm Feuerbach_

_Paolo and Francesca are two characters that Dante meets in The Divine Comedy. Francesca cheated on her husband with Paolo after reading together the tale of Lancelot and Guinevere._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My intention with Jon’s story after he and Dany broke up and he had a lot of flings wasn’t that he couldn’t move on from Dany. He did move on. 
> 
> However, this is my point, Jon and Dany were on the same page, romantically. When he got into a relationship, just like Dany, he dated someone he didn’t love a lot.  
Jon: “Why should I settle for someone with whom I’m not having the time of my life? Because I neeeed to be in a relationship?” Dany agreed with him, because it was the same thing that had happened to her with Daario. She also settled for an alright relationship.
> 
> It took him longer to be in an actual relationship because he was afraid of commitment and settled for sex partners and because, as he said, the women he dated didn’t want to take things further. If it had been up to him, he would have been in a loving relationship with another woman. It had been a while. I've received hate for this chapter, but not moving on isn’t an indicator of how much you love or not love someone. It just means that you can’t be alone. Even if you really loved your ex, you should be able to move on. Life goes on with or without them.


	11. Ride The Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some family time.

_The Great Wave at Kanagawa by Hokusai_

* * *

“‘You are like my fox when I first knew him’,” Daario read out loud on a Friday night, sitting back in his bed with each of the kids at his side. Daemon hugged him by the neck. Visenya only lay down next to him. Dany walked into the bedroom and smiled to Daario as their gazes met, he had picked a great passage to read to them. She lay down on Visenya’s other side and watched the book as Daario kept on reading. He ran his finger under every word he was saying for the kids to see. “‘He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you—the rose that belongs to me’. Do you want to keep on reading?” he asked Visenya.

He guided her with her finger as she read in a stiff and paused way: “‘But in…hers…elf alone she is more impro—important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have wa—watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass…globe; because it is for her that I have ki—killed the cater—cah—ter…’”

“‘Caterpillars’,” Daario said softly. “‘Except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies, because it is she that I have listened to when she grumbled or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing’.” But how much had he actually listened to her? “‘Because she is my rose’.”

He held Visenya’s hand. Dany smiled at the sight. They would leave this house soon, but she hoped the kids always got along with their dad. It’s not a good life if one is angry at a parent forever. She knew it well.

“‘It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important’,” Dany said, remembering by heart that passage from pages later. “‘You are responsible for your rose. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed'.” _And for what you have hurt?_ Dany asked herself. She didn’t know if she was thinking about Visenya or herself now. He had hurt more than one person in this room, but he was right to try to make amends. Dany knew that this wouldn’t last, but allowed herself and her family to enjoy this moment of peace before there weren’t more of them anymore.

Daario kissed both his kids on the head and stroked Visenya’s hair.

“Why don’t we go to the beach club tomorrow? We haven’t been there in a while,” he said. “I’ll let you guys get on the surfboard with me.”

The kids cheered. Going to the beach always meant too much work for her, but she accepted anyway.

* * *

Daario got into the sea with one kid at the time. They didn’t get into the taller waves, only into the small ones that pushed the surfboard towards the sand. Daemon sat at the front part of the board while Daario sat or lay behind him, and Visenya stood up with his help. He either held her hands to help her keep balance or she stood back against his waist, holding him by the legs.

Dany filmed them from the shore, cheering them. When they were back in the shore, Daario hugged her by the waist and kissed her cheek. “You sure you don’t want to come in with me?”

“No,” Dany laughed. “I haven’t done it in way too long.”

"Her therapist is really helping her out, don’t you think?” he asked her.

But before she could answer, some voices exclaimed, “Daario!”

“Hey!” Daario raised his hand to wave at a group of people nearby them. He went over to greet them and Dany and the kids followed him. He introduced Dany to them and them to Dany. He told her they worked in rating agencies, in the department of financial services, or something of the sort. “You would know if you came with me to all those networking cocktails I always tell you about,” Daario joked. Good thing Dany was wearing sunglasses because otherwise everyone would have seen her rolling her eyes to the back of her skull.

“Oh no!” one of them said. “You don’t come to the cocktails? They’re so fun. I’ve seen the president of the DFS absolutely wasted. You don’t get to see that every day.”

“I guess not,” Dany forced a smile. “The kids are too little, so I usually stay at home with them at night.”

They asked them to sit beside them. Dany and Daario grabbed their belongings and sat with them. Dany bit her tongue and did not complain. One couple in the group had children and they played with Visenya and Daemon in the sand.

They all talked about the stock market and the economy and a possible recession and some other things she didn’t quite understand because every time she asked Daario about them, he made her feel like she was stupid for not knowing. Daario moved to the other side of the group and she stayed where she was to watch the children.

They all ordered drinks and snacks and eventually, Dany was part of a small talk with two people who were sitting by her side about how to grill shrimp like the ones they were eating. Jon had taught her a thing or two about cooking shrimp so she could at least talk about that.

“Daddy, daddy!” Daemon ran to Daario. “We’re building a huge sandcastle! First, we put the sand in a bucket, but, wet sand, then—“

“That’s great, son. Why don’t you tell mum about it?”

Daemon ran to Dany.

“Mummy!” He interrupted her as was speaking. “We’re building a huge sandcastle!” He gave her the entire explanation. She congratulated him for it, and then kept on chatting with the others. The kids interrupted Daario several more times, and he always told them to tell Dany whatever they wanted. She then took them to the bathroom, to buy some ice cream, and, eventually, they got bored.

"Can we surf again?" Visenya asked Daario.

"No, honey. I'm busy," he said, and kept on talking.

"Can we go home?" she asked.

“No, not yet. We haven’t been much time here.”

Dany told her that they would leave later and to keep on playing with the other kids. Then, they went for a walk around the club.

When the kids were exhausted and insisting more and more to go home, Dany went over to Daario to say it was time to go.

“Wait a second,” he replied. “I’m in the middle of a hilarious story of when I was an intern and dropped my coffee on a Bloomberg terminal!”

“The kids are way too tired,” she said.

“Have I ever told you that story?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they haven’t heard it,” he said, and went on with his story while everyone around him laughed about it.

“The kids don’t know what else to do,” Dany said quietly, a little embarrassed for insisting.

“Just a second,” Daario insisted kindly with a smile. But he texted her some minutes later and said, ‘Stop bossing me around in public. If you want to leave so bad, go ahead with the kids.’

She pursed her lips in anger. ‘Then _I’ll_ be the only one doing all the work of bathing them and feeding them?’

‘You wanna leave or not? If I tell you to stay, you complain. If I tell you to leave, you complain.’

_Oh, I will leave, _she wanted to write back, _I will leave you soon and you have no idea. _But she obviously didn’t write anything.

So she told the kids, “Who can dig a deeper hole in the sand?!” They accepted the challenge and dug for longer than she thought they would.

When Daario said it was time to leave, they got into the car silently. He sat at the driver’s seat.

“Wait, you haven’t drunk, right?”

He snorted. “Would I be driving if I had drunk? Gods.”

“Alright, I was just asking. You don’t have to reply to me like that.”

“Well, why do you ask something so obvious?” he said, starting the engine.

The more time passed, the more she had gotten used to that attitude of his on a consistent basis, and the more she got used to it, he did and said worse and worse things to her. But she had no patience for that anymore. She didn't retort, the kids were there. So she just cut it off, but she wouldn’t be too bothered by him. Why would he have that much power over her mood, anyway? 

Daemon fell asleep on the way home. Dany woke him up when they arrived to bathe him but he didn’t want to, he wanted to sleep.

“You can’t get into bed right now, you still have sand on yourself and all the salt from the sea. Come on.”

But he didn’t want to, and after her insistence, he started crying.

“Daario, mind helping me out?” she asked.

Daario went over to the bathroom and crossed his arms. “Daemon, quit whining and get in the bath.”

He kept on crying. “I want to sleep!”

“Well, you’re already super awake, crying that loud. You might as well just get in the bath,” Daario said.

He cried even more. “I don’t want to!”

“Look, Daemon,” Dany said. “Your sister already took a shower and she’s ready for bed. She’s so responsible. Now that she’s clean she can sleep better—” but he shouted louder and didn’t let her finish.

Daario threw his head back. “Daemon, my head is hurting. Just shut up and get in the bath.”

“You shut up!” he cried out.

“What the hell did you say to me?!” Daario raised his voice.

“Daario, watch your mouth,” Dany said.

“No, what the hell did you say? Say it again!” Daario said.

“_Daario_.”

“Oh, Daemon tells me to shut up but I’m the one you get angry at?” Daario told her.

“Daemon,” Dany said, “you can’t talk to your father that way. Ever. You will do as we say.”

“No!” he cried.

Daario pushed Dany out of the way and rushed over to Daemon. Dany’s muscles tensed.

“Take off your clothes.” He tried to take off Daemon’s t-shirt but he wouldn’t let him. “Take them off or I’ll put you in the bath with your clothes on.” Daemon put his arms up and Daario pulled fiercely his t-shirt off and then his pants down with the same strength.

“Alright, enough, Daario. Let me take it from here,” Dany said. Daario carried Daemon and quickly put him inside the bath. Daemon cried louder. “That’s enough. I’ll bathe him.”

“No, I’ll do it. I’ll do it quickly.” He grabbed the bottle of shampoo.

Dany took it from his hands. “Thank you for your help. I’ll take it from here.”

Daario turned to look up at her, squatting on the floor. They stared at each other in silence.

“And then,” he got up and looked down at her, “you say I don’t help out with the kids.” Daemon now cried silently. “Keep that voice down, Daemon. My migraine is back and there aren’t any pills. Why aren’t there any pills around in this house?”

Dany said, “Have you checked behind our mirror on the—“

Daario left and shut the door.

Dany sighed and started washing Daemon’s hair. “You can’t talk that way to your father,” she said. “Regardless of the way he talks to you. Do you understand?” Daemon sniffed. “I’ve asked you a question.”

“Yes,” he said quietly as she stroked his head with shampoo.

“When we’re done here, the first thing you’ll do is apologize to him, _then _you’ll go to bed.” He stayed silent. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, mum,” he replied.

“And if I ever hear you again say something like that to him or me, you’ll be grounded.”

“Yes, mum.”

Dany tried to look in his eyes, but he was only looking down at the water. “Didn’t you have a fun time last night, when we read The Little Prince together?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t everything better when we behave? Aren’t we all happier when we don’t argue?” Daemon nodded. “You were so brave today at the sea. And your dad’s a good teacher. That’s basically the job parents have to do: we teach you to ride the waves like that. First, we start off with the smallest waves, lying down on the board. Then, you’re able to sit up, like you did today. Then, like Visenya, you’ll be able to stand up, but we’ll help you out, holding your hands for you not to fall. And one day, you’ll be able to surf the tall waves all on your own just like dad can. But you need us to guide you for you to achieve that. We all need guides in life.”

“But how long will it take for me to surf on my own like him?” he asked.

Dany smiled. She knew he hadn’t understood a single thing about that metaphor. For him, she was just talking about surf. At least, she had reflected on it herself.

“Years, my love. You won’t surf without an adult for years. But that’s what dad and I are for.”

She put bubbles of soap in his nose. He laughed and did the same to her. She chuckled too, cleaned her nose and finished bathing him.

Daemon knocked on Daario’s door to apologize to him, but Daario didn’t let him in. He said his headache was too strong.

“You’ll tell him in the morning,” Dany said. She knew better not to insist.

In Daemon’s bedroom, Visenya got into bed with him.

Dany sat at their feet, with her back against the wall, and gave them a warm smile.

“Guys,” she said. “We can’t do whatever we want all the time. We often have to make sacrifices to be happy together.”

“What are sacrifices?” Daemon asked. He had such a cute and tiny voice when he wasn’t screaming.

“Well, they’re things you do that you don’t want to do to get something better in the end. Sometimes,” she said, looking at Visenya, “we might want to insult someone, or even punch someone…but it takes real strength not to do something even when you _want _to do it. That’s what makes you strong. We have to follow rules to live together in company, to live well, and to avoid hurting others. But there are sacrifices that you do for yourself as well: like taking a bath before going to sleep, brushing your teeth three times a day, or eating all your food. You do them for a greater good: to go to sleep clean, or to be healthy from the nutrients of the food. We know why we tell you to do these things. We love you. Just listen to us more often.

“I know it can be confusing. When you _really_ want to do—or don’t want to do—something, it’s difficult to choose to do otherwise. It feels frustrating. But I would like to know how you guys feel. I want to understand you guys two, but I can only do so if you talk, not if you whine and cry and shout or disrespect me or your dad like you just did.” She looked at Daemon, he avoided her gaze. “When you love someone, you have to do these and, when you grow up, many more sacrifices.”

“But why doesn’t dad do those sacrifices?” Visenya asked with a frown. “He also whines and shouts and disrespects others. Why is it okay when he does it?”

“It is not okay. It really isn’t okay to treat others that way,” Dany replied. "He and I also get confused sometimes and we don’t react well. And I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in doing so. We sometimes aren’t sure how to react when you guys misbehave.”

“I don’t want to misbehave,” Daemon said.

“I know,” she replied.

Whenever Daario apologized to Dany after insulting her or mistreating her in a fight, he always said something similar: _‘I don’t want to be like this.’_ She believed him. No one likes being angry, no one likes hurting others. When she hurt others, it seemed like her behavior was out of her control, like someone else was taking the wheel. She would keep on helping her son to find his way, to control himself when he acted in ways that hurt him or others, but she wouldn’t keep on helping Daario. Just because he doesn’t mean his words, she shouldn't keep on standing his fits forever and getting hurt. She would only have that patience for her kids.

A tear leaked out of Visenya’s eye.

“Hey,” Dany said. “We’ve had a great time today with dad, right?” Visenya nodded. “He loves you so much. Never forget that.”

“I wish he could always be that way,” she said.

_Me too,_ Dany wanted to say.

Visenya went over to Dany and lay down with her head on Dany’s lap.

“Why don’t you come over, Daemon?” She asked him. He crawled to her other side and hugged her by the arm.

Visenya’s cried silently against Dany’s thigh. Dany stroked her hair and sang, “_A cloud of eiderdown draws around me softening a sound._” She rested her cheek on Daemon’s head. “_Sleepy time, and I lie with my love by my side and she's breathing low. And I rise like a bird in the haze when the first rays touch the sky_.” Dany smiled, remembering when the kids had just been born, when she and Daario took them home for the first time, how they couldn’t sleep for so many nights… “The first time I sang a song to you, Vis,” she said, “you fell asleep. You weren’t even a day old.”

Visenya held her hand and said, “I love you, mummy.”

“Me too,” Daemon said.

Their love was the only retribution she had in this house. It was a huge retribution, of course, but she could still have it elsewhere, they could love her here or in Rhaella’s house. Theirs was the strongest bond they had. They were bound for life. She wasn’t bound the same way to Daario. But he and the kids were. And they had to be at peace with that. Now and, hopefully, for the rest of their lives.

“I love you two more than I love anyone on this planet. And so does your dad. Tomorrow will be a new day, his headache will be over, and we’ll do a _looot_ of fun things again.” They wouldn’t have many more moments to enjoy with Daario, so she wanted them to cherish their time with him while they could. “No life can ever be perfect,” she went on. “We’ll always have moments when things don’t work out the way we want them to. And we’ll suffer about it. But as your mother, I’ll do the best I can to make sure your lives are the best they could possibly be. I promise you that.” With her eyes closed, she felt like she was making that same promise to herself, too: to give herself the best life she could possibly have. She would try for this new start to be better for both the kids and her. “So, I’m sorry if I’ve sometimes failed to protect you and have hurt you instead.” She silently directed that apology to herself too: for having attached to Daario because of her need to be accompanied, for trying to climb out of the pit of depression that way, for having stayed all these years here.

She closed her eyes and imagined the three of them sleeping at Rhaella’s house, and then…she pictured the three of them with Jon. What a sweet life. But the road would be tough, tougher than all these years stacked on top of one another. Leaving Daario was like cutting off a gangrenous leg: he was a part of her and had been for many years, but if she didn’t cut it off now, it would consume her whole with time. The cut would hurt like hell. Staying and avoiding the horrible fight she would have with Daario would be the choice that would hurt less. Likewise, letting go of Jon would certainly be the most painful of all the choices, but what if it had to be done? She wouldn’t choose again what felt better or what felt worse. She had to think of the long term. But could being with him really be detrimental for the family?

_Mother and Child by Pablo Picasso_

At midnight, when she made sure everyone was asleep, she went downstairs to the office and locked the door. She took out her phone and texted Jon. He never texted her first on the weekends, nor on any evening to be cautious.

‘Jon. Are you there? How are you?’

‘Finally!’ He replied. ‘I’ve been dying to tell you something. Can I call you?’

She pursed her lips. ‘I don’t think I can talk right now.’

She waited for minutes for him to write everything on a text. For some moments, she was about to call him and risk Daario or the kids listening, but she held herself back.

‘You’re not gonna believe this!’ he wrote. ‘I met up with the owners of the restaurant yesterday after the night shift. I told them everything: that I’m the only one who does everything, that I direct everyone in the kitchen, and that I’m the one working on the new recipes. They didn’t believe me. They were so so so skeptical. You have no idea!’

How bad she wished she could be there with him, listening to him telling such an important event, instead of having to read his texts.

‘Anyway, I basically didn’t sleep last night. I thought I was gonna get fired for lying. But today, _today_, they came over to the restaurant without prior notice. And the chef wasn’t there! But still, it could have been a coincidence, you know? So, very quietly, they asked questions to every worker. And then, they told me to stay over after the shift was over. I was so nervous! And guess what? They had also told the chef to come! So the four of us were there, imagine the tension. But I was super, super calm and collected on the outside. I think. I then said I would quit. But now neither of them wanted me to quit. The chef knew that if I weren’t there, he would have no one to direct the kitchen for him, so he would have to always go to work. So he begged me not to leave. But then I said, I won’t be treated this way.

‘And we got into this awful argument. He was trying to say that the recipe for the vegan dish was his, so I obviously retorted. But it was my word against his. So I did what you said! I told him, well, let’s see _you_ cook the dish, right now. He knows the basics, but he doesn’t know every little detail of the whole process. And he couldn’t do it, so everyone knew he was lying. Oh gods, you should have been there, you should have seen his face! The room was _tense! _I mean, a chef has to direct his crew _and _come up with new dishes, and now there was proof that he was doing neither. So I cooked the dish and they loved it!’

‘Did you cool down the chili?’ she replied.

‘A little bit, but not that much. I don’t trust your tastebuds when it comes to spicy food.’ She chuckled to herself. ‘Anyway, I guess, I guess I could be the next chef? I don’t know! But I’m glad I’m not silent about it anymore!’

‘I’m happy for you. So happy. You have no idea how bad I want to hug you right now. I’m so proud of you.’

‘Well, there's still a chance I’ll get fired.’

‘I don't think that’ll happen,’ she replied.

‘Yeah, you never know. Maybe I’ve come off as a backstabbing dude.’

‘I don’t think so. It was the right thing to do. When will they tell you what they’ve decided to do?’

‘Well, as yesterday we didn’t have many ingredients anymore, I told them to come back next week and I’ll cook for them everything I’ve been working on for the past year or two.’

‘That’s perfect. It’s time for you to really show your talent.’

‘I have all the recipes written down, but tomorrow I will practice all day. I wish you could come over to try them all!’

She smiled. ‘I wish I could be there too. But I’ll be there on Monday morning.’

‘Great. I want to see you so bad.’

‘Me too.’

‘And how was your day?’ he asked.

‘It was good. We had some nice family time.’ At least for a few hours.

‘I’m glad you did. Did anything extraordinary happen?’

‘We went to the beach. It was fun.’ She didn’t want to kill his enthusiasm with any complaints of hers. ‘Do you know how to surf, by the way?’

‘Me? No. I didn’t acquire that ability in these years we’ve been apart. Why?’

She chuckled, she had been picturing Jon teaching the kids to surf as Daario did. She guessed there was no way to entirely replace him.

‘Just asking.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think it's necessary to show Daario as a dick all the time (throwing books and insulting Dany), sometimes he's just passive-aggressive and annoying, but that also says a lot about what his priorities are (work, networking). Still, he loves his kids very much. But is that enough? Going back to The Little Prince's metaphor, I think he just hasn't watered his roses enough. 
> 
> Thoughts and questions are welcome: is there anything you didn't understand? Anything that wasn't clear? Anything that seemed redundant? Once this is done I'm sharing it with more people so I'd really appreciate some nice feedback :D
> 
> Some credits:  
-Fragments from The Little Prince, one of my favorite books.  
-[The song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uThZ1uuLLWM)  



	12. The View From Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The real voyage of discovery consists, not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”  
—Marcel Proust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kids really love when you sing to them. Last chapter it was Pink Floyd, now it's time for Queen (I was listening to Love of My Life, got all emotional, and wrote an entire chapter thinking about it lol).
> 
> Things are getting spicyyyyyy and I’m having so much fun writing this. I LOVE sitting down to write this fic. Okay go ahead and READ! <3

_The Human Condition - René Magritte_

* * *

Three a.m.

The anticipation of that day, that talk, haunted her. It was useless to try to sleep. Every night she lay with her eyes open, picturing that argument, over and over again. She saw herself crying so much that she wasn’t able to finish what she wanted to say and Daario took over the argument.

His breathing hinted he was asleep, so she got out of bed and walked downstairs. She took a recipe notebook from the kitchen and went into the office. She wrote down some tips from the support group and from her mother:

_-Be firm but be respectful._

They had told her this wasn’t the moment to list all the things she hated about him. But she wanted him to know them, to know how much he had hurt her for years and the reasons why she was leaving. He had to know.

“He should know,” the moderator had told her. “Just not on that first talk.”

She rubbed the space between her eyebrows. She had to keep him from getting angry. She kept on writing what they had told her.

_-He’ll cry a lot._

_-He’ll beg for a second chance._

_-He’ll beg to go to couples counseling. _

_-He could threaten to cut us off financially. _

_-He could tell me he’ll take the kids from me._

Then, she wrote a reply to every of those scenarios: that she was the one who could raise the kids better, or that she wouldn’t give this a second chance because she didn’t want to be with him anymore.

_Record the conversation, _they had told her. She didn’t know what he could do or say or threaten to do. If they had to take this to court, she needed evidence. They had also given her the number of an attorney.

_‘When and where?’_

Saturday. The kids had a birthday party at a friend’s house, so she and Daario could have some time on their own.

“It’s too soon,” she whispered to herself.

But why was it? If she waited to feel completely ready, she would never do it.

Her fingers were trembling. She went over to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. She took a picture of what she had written with her phone and broke the paper to pieces and threw it to the sink’s garbage disposal.

* * *

Jon had prepared his own dishes for the owners the previous day, and now he was waiting for an answer. There were three options for the future of his job: he could be promoted to chef, he could stay as a sous chef and they would get a new chef, or he would get fired.

“The odds are in your favor,” Dany said. She lay down across Jon’s bed, letting her feet hang in the air on its side. He lay down next to her but from the other side of the bed, with his head was next to her legs. “You’ve been doing the work of a chef for a while, which means you already have experience in it.”

“That doesn’t stop me from being scared,” Jon said.

“I’ll be here for you, whether you become the chef or get fired. I won’t rest until I help you find a new job.”

He was helping her out too in her job search. She had sent her CV and portfolio _everywhere, _from art schools in need of teachers to offices where they needed secretaries. She had been texting everyone she knew if they knew of anywhere where they were hiring.

“I’m so tense,” he said, pressing his fists against his eyes.

“Me too,” she replied. “This break-up thing…it’s not letting me sleep.”

“This will all be over soon,” he said, caressing her leg. But her talk with Daario would only be a beginning of a long time of even more stress.

She turned and lay on the side of her body and hugged his legs. He smiled down at her as he turned to his side too, facing her, and rubbed his hand up and down her thigh.

“I wonder how we could relax,” he said with a playful smile, caressing her waist with his whole palm.

“You tell me,” she smiled back.

He lowered her pants and softly ran his fingertips on her thighs and pressed tiny kisses on them. She stroked his head. Every kiss drew near her cunt but didn’t reach it yet. He kissed her under the stomach, just above her mound, and her breath quickened.

His waist was just beside her face, so she opened his zipper and took his cock out. The lube was on his bedside table, just by her head, so she put some in her hand and started stroking him, supporting herself on her side with an elbow on the mattress. He moaned softly and traced tiny kisses along her cunt over her panties, and her hips bucked towards his face. He slowly lowered her panties and took them off completely. He ran the back of his fingers up her leg and passed his arm between her thighs to hold her buttock. He massaged it while he kissed and softly bit her thigh. She lifted her leg for him to place his head over her lower thigh and finally face her cunt.

Once he finally licked it, she licked the tip of his cock too, so both hissed in pleasure. Both were on the mattress, lying on the sides of their bodies, with curious tongues against the other’s genitals.

“Pass me the lube,” he said, and fingered her easily with it while licking her clit. His kisses were slow, and his fingers curved slowly inside her too.

She licked his cock from the balls to the tip. He moaned against her cunt.

“Go back to the balls,” he breathed against her cunt, and she licked them again while her thumb moved in circles around the tip of his cock, and it didn’t take long for it to be firm and stiff facing her, standing on its own.

She caressed his buttocks, round and firm, with gentle fingertips, but then took a tight grip of them as she moved her head to take his cock in her mouth. While his tongue was on her clit, and two fingers in her hole, his damp finger went to her butthole and circled it softly. She breathed quickly in anticipation.

“Let me know when,” he said.

She licked his cock some more. Jon’s finger still caressed her, it took a peak in trying to enter but didn’t quite do so.

“Now,” she breathed, and a finger slipped into her butthole. She let out a loud moan. “Gods, my three holes are being fucked,” she chuckled as she kept on sucking his cock, but did so quite lousily, she couldn’t focus. Her legs were pressing Jon’s head as he french kissed her clit, massaged her g spot with his fingers and fingered her arse.

“There, there, there,” she said under her breath. “Right there.”

She let her head fall to the mattress, hugging Jon’s thighs as she moaned against them. The pleasure didn’t let her go on with his cock.

“Fuck,” she said. “_Fuck_.”

She stroked his cock with her hand, but Jon’s tongue and fingers were a spell that couldn’t let her move or think.

“Leave it,” he said against her cunt.

“You sure?”

“Leave it there for a while.”

She let go of his cock and told him, “then…_harder_.”

He moved his fingers and tongue faster, and her moans quickened too. She held his thigh and moaned against it, kissing it and biting it, and once he got into a steady rhythm, she gave the blowjob another chance, sucking his cock while her hand took it from the base and massaged his balls. She moaned against it, just like he moaned against her cunt.

“I’m almost there,” she said.

“Hope my neighbors aren’t home,” he joked.

She laughed, breathless. With every curling of his fingers, with every lick of his thumb, the adrenaline across her body went up and up and up. Her muscles tightened and breath quickened to the point where her thoughts were completely clouded, and only a cry and a release evidenced her peak.

“Creampie,” Jon said, wiping her cunt with his fingers.

She was panting, breathless, but kept on stroking his cock. He looked down at her.

“I finish what I start,” she said, and went on.

But he sat up and lay back down with his face next to hers. After wiping their lips, they gave each other a wide, long kiss, while her arm was stretched down, giving him a handjob. He ran his hand up her stomach, up her rib, till reaching her breasts. She paused the handjob to unzip her bra and he slid his hand up to massage her breast while she kept on stroking him.

“I’m—” he breathed, “I’m almost there.”

“Cum in my mouth,” she said, and tried to move. But he held her head down as he kissed her again and said, “No, I know you don’t like the taste.”

But she freed herself from his kiss and stuck her tongue out under the tip of his cock as she kept on stroking him with her hand. She gave him a lick and he finally came on her tongue, moaning and breathing quickly with his eyes shut.

“Don’t swallow,” he said when he was done, looking down at her. She licked his inner thigh and dampened it with his cum. He laughed.

“There it is. No swallowing,” she smiled. But she got the taste in her mouth anyway. She placed a tiny kiss to the tip of his cock and let it rest. “I love your dick.”

She went up to be face to face with him and they locked their lips in a soft kiss.

“And I love your pussy. So pink, so wet, so warm… I hope I was able to let go of some of your stress,” he said in a low and hoarse voice.

“Some?” she said. “A lot.”

He scratched the back of her head softly. “I needed to get laid too, so bad.”

She chuckled softly. “I know.” Both their bodies had been tense and their minds had been begging for some distraction and some loving.

“I’m so in love with you,” he said, “so in love with you that I want to please you so bad. Again and again. And I don’t know what it is about tongues that make everything much more delicious.”

He stuck out his tongue and licked hers. She pointed hers and flicked his tongue back. They both chuckled.

_The Embrace by Egon Schiele _

Her mind was always constantly wandering to the past and then to the future. She visited her memories with Jon, her memories with Daario, and then went to the future, to the anxiety of their break-up, and to the amazing daydreams of living with Jon. But those thoughts, no matter how good or bad, were always in the way of savoring the present.

“Let’s just enjoy the day—or, these few hours—let’s treat ourselves and just have some fun,” she said.

“Yes, let’s treat ourselves,” he said. “I want to eat.”

She chuckled. “You just ate. Me.”

He laughed. “Yes, I won’t find a better meal than that one. But there’s this new ice-cream place a couple of blocks from here, and I _love _it. You _gotta _try them!”

They had already hung out around this area, no one she knew lived around. But there was always a worry that _anyone _could be looking. A random person who knew Daario, a random parent of her kids’ friends, the odds weren’t high, in a city as populated as King’s Landing, but there was no moment free of anxiety in the affair, at least not outside of the walls of his flat.

Before he put on his briefs, she held his hips and placed a loud kiss on his buttock, making him laugh. They walked holding hands to the door of his flat, and as they got out of the building, they just walked with their hands in their pockets. They made their way down a long avenue, which eventually reached the beach. The sea couldn’t be seen from their level, though, they were far from it.

They passed by a construction. There was a ladder by it. She gasped and said, I have an idea. She held the ladder with both hands and told Jon, “Hold it.”

He frowned. “What the hell?” And held it anyway.

She went up, while he asked her what she was doing.

“Just wait!” she said.

She got to the top. Just what she thought. She could see the sea from above. 

“Tell me, can you see the sea from down there?” She asked him.

“No!”

“I can!”

“Great!” he said, confused.

She snapped a photo with her phone. “This will be my next painting!”

“Great!” he repeated.

The construction workers asked her to get down immediately and she did so.

As they got to an ice-cream store, she stayed silent, only staring at the picture she had taken.

“Dany,” he repeated. She had not been listening. “What flavor do you want?”

“Uh—strawberry.” She said, she hadn’t even looked at the flavors.

“Don’t you want anything a bit better? This place makes some great flavors. Like the cookies and cream one—”

“Yeah sure,” she said. “Get that one.”

They bought the two ice-cream cups and went home.

“Finally,” he said when they started eating, sitting on the couch. He shut his eyes, savoring it. “This place is top-notch. I’m a huge fan of…”

Dany wasn’t even listening what he was saying, she put a spoonful of ice-cream into her mouth. Jon asked her for her comments about it but she only said, “Amazing.” It was good but she couldn't focus on that right now.

He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Hey, weren’t you just saying some minutes ago that you wanted to treat yourself and enjoy the present?” She blinked and looked up at him. “What’s going on on your mind?”

“Sorry, I had to get my thoughts together. I'll need a big canvas for this one. It will be my next big project and it will be _something._” She spoke quickly. “This is a new perspective, a different point of view from the same avenue." She showed him the picture again. "We learn more about things when we see them from different perspectives. We usually see things as we are, not as they are. It made me think of Daario. He acts like that, not because he’s evil, he suffers a lot. I gotta try to see things from his perspective to be able to understand why the hell he treated me that way. Only like that, I can be at peace with him."

"Why do you wanna be at peace with him?" Jon frowned.

"I’m not gonna spend my life hating him. I have to learn to forgive him. But how could I, if I don’t try to take a moment to understand him? He’s insecure, lonely, he wanted a partner to love him and to keep him company forever. His ways were not the best. But behind every person who hurt someone else, there’s suffering. I hope he can heal from that. Without me. I had been seriously considering not letting the kids see him again, but if he can gets better...why not?”

Jon shook his head. “You've waited too long for him to change."

"He didn't change because he didn't _need _to! I was still there. No matter how bad he treated me, I was _still _there."

"He should get therapy, go to a yoga retreat, I don’t know. I don’t care. I don’t think you should, either. He’s your abuser. You owe him _nothing. _Not your forgiveness, not your respect.”

“But I do care about him, he's my children’s dad and if he becomes a worse person, then it will affect _them_. And I’ve cared about him a lot, for years. I don’t want him to become a miserable person. I wish that in the future, he and I can sit down every once in a while and have a talk about our kids, or even about our personal lives.”

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Jon said, thrusting his spoon into his ice-cream cup angrily.

“He is. I won’t deny that. But not so long ago you and I talked about our mistakes. We all fuck up. We mistake lust with love. Loneliness blinds us. Should all of these be life sentences? No. You yourself told me so. So, Daario shouldn’t have a life sentence either. But for that, he has to realize he’s not okay and he should improve and grow. Otherwise, he will impose to himself that life sentence. Only he can free himself from it. After I leave him, he deserves a shot at redemption.”

“You're trying to make me feel sorry for him. But he's not the victim here.”

"He's not. And yet, that doesn't mean he doesn't need help. I agree with you, he should go to therapy. He should make amends with those he's hurt." He pressed his lips and didn't reply. "You disagree?"

“I kinda hate him," he said. "And the kids would be better off without him."

“He’s not a good father, but does that mean he will _never _be one? Jon, he loves his kids. He _adores_ them.” And despite their complicated relationship, they loved him too. “Look, it will be his choice. If he doesn’t improve, then that’s his problem. He would be the one making the choice of ruining his life.”

She stared at the picture on her phone. That’s what art should do, she thought, it should unravel. Art should be the stairs one could climb to see others from different perspectives, to see something they couldn’t see before, like the sea, until they climbed the stairs.

"I can't tell you what to do or what not to do," he told her. "You know better than I do what's best for your family. But what I _can _tell you to do," he took in his hands the ice-cream cup and handed it to her, "is to eat this delight." She did a funny pout and ate a spoonful of it, even though it was already melting. "And stop worrying for five minutes."

* * *

“Can you sing a song?” Daemon said quietly in the dark as the three of them lay, uncomfortably, in Visenya’s bed.

“Of course I can," Dany said. "I can do anything for you. You two are the greatest loves of my life. There’s a song that goes “_love of my liiiife, you’ve hurt me. You've broken my heart and now you leave me._” She stayed silent.

“What else?” Visenya asked.

Dany cleared her throat. “_Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back. Don't take it away from me, because you don't know—_” a tear ran down her face, “_what it means to m—_” She stopped. “I don’t remember what comes next,” she lied.

She thought about him until his kids fell asleep, and kept on thinking about it back in her bed as he slept beside her. She thought about all the pain she would inflict on him soon. She hugged him from behind, pressing a kiss against his cheek. He didn't react, he was completely asleep.

She didn’t want to be like this, hugging a man who had harmed her so much, but she kept her embrace, anyway. She had loved him. She now hated him a bit for all the damage he’d done to her. But she _had_ loved him. She would probably never hug him ever again. Once, they had really been happy. With time, they changed, but she tried to remember how much they had cared for one another. That was gone now, and she was saying farewell to it, to that memory of them she had been holding onto, hoping it could come back. But it never did. And she wouldn’t wait for it to do so.

People change, so relationships change. That could happen between her and Jon. Jon wasn’t abusive, but there was a chance that they would age in different ways, and change so much that they wouldn’t stand one another. _There’s no way that could happen,_ a part of her said. But the other part said, _you never know_.

No one ever knows. That is the frightening uncertainty of every relationship, but also its beauty: it could become anything, much better than what it was right now, or much worse. How boring would relationships be if they were static? Perhaps lovers would only stand each other for a year or two if they never changed. Eventually, they would get bored of the same. But the changing nature of a partner and of oneself, for better or for worse, was a better challenge to take on. It was what allowed relationships to keep on growing too. In the case of this marriage, the challenge had been lost. And it was alright. Not every fight had to be won. Not even marriage. Death didn't have to do them part. Letting go of a fight could be a victory instead of a defeat or a surrender.

“I know you’ve cared about me,” Dany whispered. “I know you have.”

She had asked herself countless times the past year if she still loved him. But that wasn’t the right question. She should have been asking herself if she should have stood for so long so much disrespect. The feeling of love came to a second plane.

* * *

“I don’t expect you to understand how I feel about him,” she told Jon in his flat the following day, sitting in his balcony. “Hurting someone you've cared about for so long...”

Jon sighed and rested his mouth on her head. “Just be careful not to sabotage yourself. It’s time to put yourself first,” Jon told her. “Even if it hurts.”

_Putting herself first._ Cheating on Daario was the moment she put herself first, and how good it had felt. Despite all the frustration and fear of getting find out, despite all the moral conflict, it had felt amazing to do something for herself and not for him. Cheating was the moment when she remembered how much she could do on her own, how she didn’t depend on him, how she could change her situation by herself. Now, she was changing her situation like she had never had before.

Lying to her husband had been wrong, but these past months, she realized she could live without him, and that life was so much better without him. She feared that on her own, as an artist, she wouldn’t be able to go on. Now she would take a leap of faith, whether it was with that job or any other. It felt like she had held the end of a knot when she met Jon again, and had been slowly untying it. This Saturday, it would finally be completely untied.

“It’s crazy to think about this position we are in right now, you and me,” she said. “From those days in White Harbor to how we are now. We’re so different. Loaded with so many new problems and completely different lives.” She sighed. “I used to fear I was falling in love with the memory of how you were back in the day, but the more we talked, the more we got to know one another, the more I fell in love with you again. You’re a new person, but there’s still some of the old you in you. And I love that. We’re those kids from before, but grown, and stronger.”

“We’ve changed, and it’s fine. But as we dated I realized you’re a wonderful woman still: full of love, who deserves more than what she has. And it’s amazing how you’re still a part of me. Our lives have been so tied, we’ve grown together…but we’re new people with new lives. We’re not reliving the past, we’ve learned from it, and we can keep on doing so."

“You know what?” she said. “Let’s do it. Let’s stay together through it all. I want to explicitly state to you that after leaving Daario, I’ll keep on dating you, I’ll introduce you to my kids, and in the future, we'll live together.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes widened.

She nodded. “If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. If it does, it does.”

“Simple as that?”

“Simple as that,” she affirmed. “Have you realized how much good we bring to one another? When we’re together, we improve. We must take things slow, given my family’s situation. It would take a while to introduce you to the kids. But I wanna be with you always. And if the separation process is taking too long, and you decide to leave, it’s okay. But I’ll be here with open arms. You can always count on me on whatever you want. I love you, Jon. I promise you, a life together will be a life of growth.”

He stared at her with an open mouth. She held her smile, waiting for a reply.

"I know it will be. You’ve always loved me for who I am, Dany. You’ve reminded me who I am and who I _can_ be,” he told her.

This love was like a lantern that helped the other see themselves for what they truly were. It was a love that didn’t demand the other to be a certain way. When she was with him, she could finally feel like the woman she had been hiding behind the expensive clothes and earrings, behind the neat, manicured hands. It was a liberating love. But for the same reason, it wasn’t easy nor quick.

“So have you with me.” She smiled. “And you’ve opened my eyes about Daario.”

“Me?” he asked. “Don’t give me too much credit. You got to that passive love conclusion yourself. _I _learned it from _you_. Without me, you would have left Daario anyway and would have gone back to painting.”

She looked down at the city in thought. She had learned as much from her children’s love and her love for them too.

“Okay," she said, "let's be clear here: Are you okay with being with me through a long process of a divorce, where I will still be absent a lot and won’t be able to date you officially for _a while_?”

“Yes,” he said right away.

“And I promise you this: I’ll do my best for this process to go by as smoothly as possible. But there might still be the chance that this will take too long. Or that once we’re together Daario will make our lives a living hell. If any of these things make you want to leave me, do you promise you’ll tell me? If you truly want to leave me, will you?”

He shook his head. “I want to stay with you through thick and thin. I want to commit for the long run.”

“So do I. I promise to commit to our relationship and to go through thick and thin if we must, but I don’t want to take you down with me, if things get ugly.”

He sighed. “I want to be there for you. Putting the other first is central in a relationship…”

“To a certain extent,” she said, thinking about her marriage.

He scratched his jaw in thought. “I promise,” he said, “that I will fight like hell to work things out between us if things get ugly.”

“But will you walk away if it hurts you too much? Like, if Daario makes your life miserable…” She sighed. “We have to be honest here. I want us to commit, but there are times when commitment can do more harm than good. Clearly.” She pointed at herself. “So, we’ll move in together and all that, that’s a huge commitment we will make, but the door has to stay open if one of us has to go.”

“If it’s really _really_ that bad, then I guess so.” He swallowed visibly. “I’d leave.” He looked down at his hands. “Also if my presence somehow makes things worse for your family, I promise I will take a step back.”

She nodded, pulling his hand across the table and kissing it.

He chuckled.

“What?” she asked.

“These sound like marriage vows.”

“Well, they could be vows. I mean, not _marriage _vows, but…” she chuckled, “our own promises for the future we would like to build.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” He cleared his throat. “So, I’ll go on with my vows. I promise I’ll be here by your side, as long as we can.” He pressed her hand. “And now, the same question you asked me: if you want to be on your own, do you promise me you’ll tell me? And break up with me if you must?”

“I promise,” she said. And even though these were heartbreaking words, she chuckled softly.

“What?”

“These vows are funny. They’re always supposed to be like…I vow I’ll stay with you forever in sickness and in health and blah blah blah. And we’re vowing to break up if we want to.” She smiled. “It’s just so ironic.”

He chuckled too. “I hope we never get to that point.”

“So do I.”

He cleared his throat again. “Well, same thing if you don’t love me anymore. Don’t stay with me if that happens.”

_‘I know that won’t happen,’_ she wanted to reply. But no couple could know that. “I won't. You’re also free to leave if you don’t love me anymore.”

He nodded. “I will.”

She threw her head back. “Oh gods, these vows hurt!”

“You started them,” he chuckled.

“Time for nicer vows, then. I promise I will be patient in teaching you how to be a father.”

He gave her a tiny smile. “I promise I will care for your kids as if they were my own. I promise I will do my part in the household chores and taking care of the kids.”

“I really hope you do.” She chuckled. “I’ll be very angry if you don’t do your part.”

“I clean and cook every day already.”

“I know.”

“Come here.” He smiled, placing his hands on his lap. She sat on it sideways and he hugged her across the waist, kissing her neck.

“We’re always so anxious that this is going to end…but this is just starting,” she grinned, and kissed him on the lips.

“I hope we don’t forget our vows,” he said softly.

“You’re right, I’ll write them down on my phone.”

He chuckled as she wrote them on her Notes app, scratching her waist softly. He kissed her shoulder. She sent him the Note once she was done. Then, she googled ‘marriage vows’ and read them silently.

“You wanna say them too?” Jon said.

“These are quite boring,” she said. “Every couple repeats these same words. They commit to stuff that so many of them break…I said these exact same words some years ago, _‘till death do us part’_, and look at me now. I’m rehearsing my divorce speech when I’m home alone,” she laughed sadly. “But I love our vows, they’re uniquely ours, they come from our real fears and wishes, they are actually realistic…and they’re on our phones, so we can always check them. It’s much more romantic than signing a contract.”

He kissed her cheek. “I love it. I love you. I loved the old you and the new you. I don't care if we're different people now. You can’t deny this: I penetrated deep into your core,” he held her hands tightly, “as you did in mine. I know your biggest fears, your biggest dreams, your biggest flaws. And I loved you, and love you, with all the package. Yes, we might have changed. We may be different people now. You have two extra human beings under your wing. It might not work out. But it’s worth the try.”

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sides of their faces touching.

“Difficult times are coming soon,” she said. “We must be strong, and we must be patient.”

She remembered her painting. The high tide made a skillful sailor. If anything, this could be the biggest challenge for their relationship. If they made it out of this together, they could endure anything in the future.

“The first thing I’ll do with your kids is watch Ratatouille.”

She laughed. “Perfect. Don’t forget you also said you’ll cook them ratatouille.”

“Right. I gotta check out that recipe.” He laughed. “I have no idea how to do it.” He looked at the vows on his phone. “Well, this is a cause for celebration!” He grinned. “Look at us, starting to build a future together. It was such a foggy idea some time ago and now…it’s all coming together!” He stood up and carried her into the house, she laughed out loud.

“The start of a life together! An idea we had given up a decade ago!” She grinned, holding him by the neck as he placed her on his bed.

“You know what? I’ll call in sick for work today. We should be together all day…at least until you pick up the kids from school.”

She shook her head. “You’re being evaluated on being the chef or not. You can’t not go to work.” He kissed her mouth repeatedly. “Jo—Jon,” she tried to say, but his kisses didn’t let her speak.

She gave in to the kiss—they still had time anyway before he had to leave—and enjoyed a long and soft make out session. They didn’t take off their clothes, they only kissed and caressed each other’s faces, heads, arms.

He took his phone in his hands. "I'm gonna call my bosses."

"Stop," she laughed. "Don't."

He called one of them anyway and put the call on speaker, and when he answered he said, "Jon, I know, it's taken us a while to give you an answer. We've been all day and night talking about this."

"It's okay, I...I wasn't calling to hurry you—"

"It's been a really tough decision," he went on anyway.

"You mean you...you've made your mind?" Jon asked.

"Well, yes, we were planning to tell you once you get to the restaurant today, but I guess the uncertainty must be killing you."

"Uh..." he stuttered. Dany placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "Yeah, I...I'd like to know...what you've...decided."

“Today, you’ll get to the restaurant and you’ll leave that sous chef jacket,” Jon placed a hand on his forehead, “and you’ll put on the chef’s jacket.” Jon gasped loudly. Dany covered her mouth not to make any sound. “Congratulations. You earned it.”

“Tha—thank you, thank you so much,” he said with a smile.

“We also want to apologize for what you’ve had to go through, we really had no idea you were carrying such a responsibility on your shoulders. You already were an executive chef, Jon, and we’re glad you still want to work here. We’ll meet up today to talk about the menu modifications and your new terms.”

After the call ended, Dany’s arms hugged his neck while she kissed his head repeatedly. He was speechless.

He took Dany’s face between his hands, looked into her eyes and only said, “Thank you.”

It was honest gratitude, she could tell. It wasn’t just about her support during this time, nor about the way she had encouraged him to stand up for himself. It was because without her, he probably wouldn’t be in the kitchen.

He laughed from joy. “Well, I...I guess I gotta go to work today!"

"No excuse," she said.

He got up quickly and ran his palms across his head in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

He held her hands between his and told her, “If I could stand before that douchebag and told him I was sick of him stepping over me for years, you can stand up to Daario. You are _much _stronger than me. And it was you the one who helped me practice my speech. You are so ready.” He kissed her head.

When he left for work and she went home, she got a text from him. It was a video. He walked into the kitchen as the whole crew clapped for him. He looked so happy. She knew how hard he was holding back his tears. He hugged every member of the crew, who congratulated him personally. She sadly had to delete this video from her phone, but how bad she wished she could store it forever! She watched it again and again, grinning as she watched his grin, before deleting it. She had to delete her vows, too. Just in case. He would send them back to her after this Saturday, after leaving Daario, but for now, she had to be careful.

His happiness made her day, or her week. It helped her sleep better at night, even though in a few days she would break up with her husband. Saturday. A horrifying date. But she would arrive emotionally equipped: committed to Jon, with money in her pockets from sold paintings, with new mattresses in her mother’s house, and with a certainty that it was time to take away Daario’s power from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daario is an asshole. But holding grudges against him forever and being in an eternal battle against him won't be good for anyone. It makes me feel weird to try to see things from his perspective, to be honest. He's still a dick, no matter what goes on through his head. 
> 
> The moment she had been preparing for is coming next chapter.


	13. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_   
_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_   
_All your life_   
_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_   
_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_   
_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_   
_All your life_   
_You were only waiting for this moment to be free_

_Seascape, Night Effect _by Claude Monet

* * *

Saturday.

The kids’ important documents—like their birth certificates and passports—and some of her paintings were now on Rhaella’s house. Her easel and the paintings that were hung in the hallway upstairs were still there, though. Daario could have noticed something was off.

After lunch, they dropped the kids off at their friend’s birthday party. They would pick them up in a few hours.

Back home, she made sure she was all set to start. She had in her pocket her set of house keys and the keys of her car—or Daario’s car which she used. Her phone started recording.

“Think I’ll be upstairs reading for a while,” he said.

He had no idea. It was a completely ordinary day for him, and suddenly, his world would be turned upside down.

“Wait,” she stopped him. “Let’s sit in the garden for a while.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me bring my iPad.” He rushed to the office to take it and sat at one side of the table and she sat on the opposite side.

“Sunny day,” he smiled, opening an ebook. “I could use some vitamin D for a while.”

Her leg was bouncing up and down but she pressed her foot against the floor to force it to stop. She wanted to turn back, to agree with his trivial comment about vitamin D, and enjoy the sun with her husband in this lovely garden. The weather was so beautiful it didn’t match her feelings. She wanted to save up all this mess that was seconds away. But she wouldn’t let fear win.

She cleared her throat. Her life and his life would change forever in three, two, one…

“Daario,” she started. “We’ve been through a lot together, good and bad. You’re the father of my children.” She turned to face him. His eyebrows contracted in a frown. “But I can’t go on.”

“What?” He stared at her.

“I’m leaving you,” she said softly.

His iPad fell to the ground, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Da—Dany, come on…” A nervous smile drew on his face. “I know I haven't been present too much but it’s because I’m working for you guys.”

“It’s not just about your absence. It’s about your presence, the way you are, and the way you treat me.”

He rubbed his mouth. “I know I’ve fucked up sometimes. I’ve been a little aggressive, I’ve crossed the line. But I’m sorry. I mean it. From the bottom of my heart. That’s not who I am.”

Wasn’t it? She could never tell if the aggressive Daario was who he was, or if that was just a behavior that leaked out. Either way, it didn’t matter.

“You’ve always, _always_ thought that saying sorry is enough, that that way, things can go back to normal. And I’ve always believed it. Years passed, and I _kept_ on believing it. But this is where I draw the line.”

“Dany. We can work this out,” he leaned on the table towards her. “We can even go to couple’s therapy…but _breaking up_?”

“I’m not willing to go through therapy for you,” she replied. She wasn’t sure he would go through all that for her either.

“Dany, I love you,” he extended his hand across the table to her, but she didn’t take it.

“Love isn’t enough. Despite all the love and care I have for you, I can’t keep on accepting such mistreatment.”

“I’ll watch my tone more often, really.”

“It’s not just about your tone,” she said. “It’s about…the things you do and say to me. They way you’ve kept me cap—” She shut up. She remembered what they had told her in the support group. This wasn’t the moment to tell him all the reasons why she was leaving, it would get him more emotional. This was only a moment to let him know she was leaving.

“I’m sorry, I—I really want to change, I swear. I love you so much.”

Those words only made her fists clench harder. _You love me so much you hurt me, you love me so much you want to control me, to keep me for you, _she thought.

“I’m leaving. Don’t waste your breath, I won’t change my mind. I’m just _letting you know_ what I’ll do.”

“What about our vows?” He asked, ignoring what she had just said. “_For better, for worse?_ What about commitment?”

“Commitment for me is doing _everything_ for you, blocking my own path for you. I can’t live for you.”

“Commitment is what _I_ do for you,” he retorted, pressing his hand against his chest. “I pay for everything! And you are the distant one.”

“Is money _everything_ for you?!”

“Of course not, but doesn’t that show you how much I care about you?”

“Not really. I’m not saying I’m not grateful, but money doesn’t compensate the ways you hurt me. Daario, I’m leaving you. I have all the love in the world for my children, I would give them every chance in the world. But not you, Daario. I deserve better.”

“Please don’t do this,” tears were filling up his eyes, about to fall. “I need you.”

“You do need me, but I can’t only live to be your supporter or supplier of love. I can do it for my children, but you…” She shook her head with a frown. “This is the best for _both_ of us. We have to go on without each other.”

“But…” He got up and squatted in front of her, holding her hands on her lap. She closed them in fists even harder. “Tell me everything you want me to do. _Everything_.”

“I’ve done so. Explicitly. For years. I’ve given you many chances. But it’s useless. You’ve shown me you’re first, you’re always first. Throughout these past months, I’ve realized that I don’t want to be part of this anymore.”

“No, that’s not true, you guys are first. But if you need me to be around more often, I’ll be here.”

“I don’t _want _you around.”

“I’ll change. Believe me. I’ll treat you like a queen. I swear.”

“No,” she said, and looked to her side to break his gaze.

“Dany,” he said softly. “Think of everything we’ve lived together, everything we’ve gone through, the family we’ve formed. _I love you._”

“I believe you think so. But Daario we don’t _love _each other! I don’t love you.” It didn’t sound fair to speak for both of them, even though she knew that whatever Daario felt for her wasn’t actually love.

Watching him cry hurt. But she remembered she shouldn’t get carried away by his manipulation. Was he really manipulating her, though? He did need her.

“I _do_! I can’t live without you. Without you…i’ll die. I’ll fucking die.”

“You won’t, Daario.”

“I swear, I’ll die.” _Because he’ll starve without a wife to make him dinner,_ she thought to herself. “I’ll kill myself.”

_That _was manipulation.

“You really want to make me stay under the threat of you killing yourself?” She frowned, looking down at him with a furrowed brow. “Listen to you! So you don’t give a shit about what I want. I should stay because _you _need me?”

“You’re the one who’s not giving a shit about what I want—”

“I’ve done so for years!”

“So have I with you!” He stood up.

“No, you haven’t! And if you really want to kill yourself if you’re not with me… Gods, you can’t depend so much on me. Just as I can’t depend so much on you.”

“Gods, why are you doing this to me?” He held his head with both hands, shutting his eyes. “You are ruining our marriage! Our family!”

“_You_ have ruined our marriage with your behavior all these years. You missed the opportunity to be a good husband.”

“Then _give_ me just one more…”

“No! My entire relationship with you has been _giving_ and giving and giving, and what did I get for it?”

“Are you kidding me? What do you get for it?” He waved a hand, signaling the house. “Literally, everything! A goddamn house, all the clothes you want, a goddamn car, the latest fucking iPhone.”

“You’re doing all this…for me?” she asked him. “Are you sure? Isn’t it for you? To be at the level of your banker friends, who own big ass houses, who have wives who look like a million dollars, children who study in the most expensive schools? You’re doing this for me, or for the image you’ll get when you show your perfect family?”

“For you and the kids to have a good life. I work so hard. I’ve worked my ass off, till late, to get this promotion for my family.”

“Or for you?”

“For my family.”

“Then where are your priorities? You don't care _enough_ about us. A father doesn’t just earn money. You pay no attention to what your kids like, to the way they like their food, to the games they like to play. You don’t even bother to ask Visenya why she's getting into fights. If you paid attention to me, you would’ve noticed long ago how unhappy I was with you, how trapped I felt in your house,” _how another man was loving the hell out of me, _she wanted to say, _how you’ve been missing out so much for being such an inconsiderate husband_, “how unable I was to do what I want,” she said instead. “Yes, I want to be with my children, but that’s not it. I want to paint, and I want to make decisions by myself.”

“Okay, all that you’re saying, I’ll change it. I’ll be the best father in the world. I’ll do whatever it takes to get home earlier.”

“You’ve had _eight_ years to be the best dad in the world! I don’t want to spend more years waiting. They’re gushing down my fingers. And the kids! Years will keep on passing, they’ll become adults and will have grown up in an unhappy home—I want them to be good, happy adults.”

“I’ll start tomorrow. I’ll call a maid to start this Monday.” He picked up his iPad. “I’ll order a robot vacuum and mop right now.”

“It’s too late, Daario. It’s not just about having a freaking maid…or a robot vacuum. It’s the _reason_ why you’ll pay for them. When I needed help, when I wanted more to life…nothing. Now that this is the only way to save your marriage, _hallelujah_. If it’s genuinely for me, you’re not gonna do it. But if it’s to keep me _for you, _then you’ll do it. I can’t keep on wasting my life with you.”

She took off her ring and handed it to him. He didn’t receive it. She placed it on the table.

“Gods, Daenerys,” he cried with a frown. “You’re hurting me so much.”

“By telling you the ways you’ve hurt me? Please.” She rolled her eyes.

He paced from side to side in front of her. He pressed the sides of his head with his hands and shut his eyes. “Am I dreaming right now?”

“You’re not.”

“What can I do? What can _I _do?” he only said. He didn’t know what it was not to be in control, not in his house or in his job.

“The _only_ thing you can do now is to go on with your life and improve as a person. The divorce will be simple, I’ll take nothing from—”

“I’m not signing those papers,” he interrupted her.

“Of course you will.” He shook his head. “Oh, so your plan is to literally lock me in your life, even if I’ve told you I don’t want to be with you, even though I’ve told you I don't love you? You _will_ sign those papers. I’ve had it with you and tying me to you. I’m not gonna waste my entire life here. Life will be so much better without you.”

“Really?” He looked at her dead in the eye and said, “What the fuck are you gonna do on your own?”

It hit her like a dagger. That was her greatest fear right now. He knew it well. And despite the tears that fell down her face, she got up and said, “Everything I haven’t done for eight years. I have a fucking _master's _degree!” Her voice broke in pain. “I could even _teach _with a master's degree! I’m a fucking professional at what I do.”

“Yeah, you were one like _eight years ago! _A woman in her mid-thirties starting from scratch? How could you make it on your own?”

“_You’re_ the one who’s afraid he won’t make it on his own. Don’t throw your insecurities at me! You’ve done so all our marriage, and I’m sick of it! You don’t care about growing as a person, you don’t care about me or our kids, you just think about getting seven digits on your bank account to retire at forty-five and then, once you’re free of work, you’ll start treating me _well_? You’ll finally raise your kids? I don’t buy it. You won’t magically become the perfect father or husband. And I bet you’ll get to forty-five and will work more, because you’ll be now chasing eight digits.” He placed his hands on his forehead and walked away from her. “Face it, Daario. You have not been a good husband and father. You must face the consequences of that.”

“And what are your plans? Just take your bags and leave? Where are you gonna go?”

“To my mum’s, with the kids.”

“To your—“ he let out a sad chuckle. “Oh, gods, your mother. _She’s_ gonna raise them?”

“Of course. And better than you.” Well, the bar was pretty low.

“No, Dany.” He walked towards her. “Come on, think it through.”

“I have.”

“Dany. Look. I’m willing to put this behind. We can solve this. We’ve solved many problems.”

“We haven’t solved _any _of our problems! We just hid them under the rug, that’s not the same thing. We’re not gonna solve _this_. We’re gonna get old and be in an unhappy marriage.” She wiped her tears with her hand. “I don’t want to be with you, do you really want a wife who doesn’t love you? Who doesn’t desire you? Do you really want that for the rest of your life? You will _never_, never struggle to find women. Other women who love you. You can start your life over.” He shook his head again and again. “Daario, if it isn’t now it will be later.”

“Why?!”

“Because there is nothing to save in this marriage. We don’t have a relationship anymore, only a marriage. Our kids are the only link between us, they’re a major reason, obviously, but there’s nothing else.”

“Yes, the kids, let’s talk about them. Your first and foremost responsibility is to be a _mother_,_ then _you can make all those decisions for yourself. How can you be so selfish?”

“This is for myself _and_ the kids.”

“A united family is what’s best for them.”

“Oh, yeah? Visenya cries at night thinking you’ll hit me! She’ll do better without you and me under the same roof! Even her psychologist says so!”

“Her psychologist?!” His eyes widened. “I’ve been paying that woman a shitload of money for her to strengthen my relationship with my daughter, and she’s been trying to drive her _away from me_?”

“You’ve paid her to help your daughter to be happier. Whatever it takes.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Daario, I believe you can be a better father. I believe you can improve. But not with us under your roof. You can be better for them if you don’t see them all day, every day.”

He shook his head. “I disagree. I need them in my life.”

“Daario, you don’t spend that much time with them anyway. You can keep on seeing them on the weekends. The difference isn’t huge.”

“If the difference isn’t huge then why do you want to leave?!” He roared.

“Because I can’t stand this!” She wiped her tears. “And we’re not good parents when we don’t get along. _Together_, we are _not_ good parents.”

“Then let’s get along. When we do get along, everything goes on fine.”

“Open your eyes! This rollercoaster of fights and reconciliations will just never end! This will just keep on affecting the kids!”

“Gods,” he grumbled. “I don’t understand why don’t I have a say in this. You chose this family should break apart on your own. You chose you’d take the kids on your own. I have no say in this!”

She exhaled. She had had no say in their relationship. “What do you want? After everything I’m telling you, do you really want to keep this going?”

“I want _my kids._” He pointed at his chest. “All the hard work, everything I do for them, and I’ll only be able to see them _on the weekends?!_”

“What about _my _hard work?” She pointed at her chest.

“What work?”

“I cook, clean, tend to _every_ single one of their needs.” He rolled his eyes. “You just play with them or watch a movie and think that’s it. is it less relevant of a work if it doesn’t have a pay? Didn’t you use to tell me that I, their mother, was the one who could raise them better? Only when it’s convenient to you, right? You say you don’t have a say in this, but your say is only about you. Don’t you realize? Your choice isn’t about them. And that’s what worries me the most about you. You’re first.”

“That’s not true, their life will be much better here than at your mother’s!”

“I don’t think so. You won’t give them the life they deserve!”

“Of _course _I will!” He roared and rushed into the house.

“Where are you going?”

He grabbed his car keys.

“Shit,” she said, and rushed to the garage behind him. He got in the Porsche and before she could get in, he locked the doors and left the house. Her mouth was agape in awe, but she didn’t waste more time. She got into the Lexus and drove away behind him. He took a turn to an avenue that took them to the birthday party. He drove fast. She drove fast too. One minute he was ahead, the other, she was. She held the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles hurt.

On a red light, she stopped next to him and lowered her window.

“Do you really plan to take the kids from me?! Have you lost your mind?!” She shouted, but he only looked at the road and turned up the volume of the music.

They parked quickly in front of the house where the kids were and rushed out of their cars. Daario rang the doorbell repeatedly.

“Daario,” she said. “Daario. What the hell are you doing?”

The door opened and the music came out from inside the house along with Irri, who with a dashing smile said, “Hello there—” She saw both their red, teary-eyed faces and her tone changed. “I… is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Daario said. “I'm here for the kids.”

“_I’m_ here for the kids,” Dany said.

“Stop. They’re coming with me.”

“_No!_” she said loud and firm, perhaps the firmest she had ever been with him.

Daario tried to walk in. “Daemon?! Visenya?!”

Irri placed a hand on his chest. “Daario, Daario. So many kids are inside. Please. I don’t want my kids to see an angry, aggressive adult waltzing into our house. They’ll get scared. You’re raging, mate.”

“For _fuck’s_ sake, I’m not aggressive!”

Dany sighed behind him. “Daario. Don’t go in like that.”

“Then tell them to come out, Irri,” he said.

Dany shook her head from behind him, begging her not to do so. He would take them away.

“If you love your kids,” Dany told him, “keep this argument between you and I. They don’t need to be a part of this, to grow up with this memory. Irri, can they stay over a little longer?”

“Sure, there’s no prob—”

“It’s been a while.” He interrupted “I’m sure they’re tired and want to go home.”

“Believe me, they’re still playing,” Irri said with a forced smile. “None of them want to leave yet.”

They heard the laughter of the parents that were inside. If he went in, he’d make a show in front of everyone. Dany knew he couldn’t stand that embarrassment.

Daario gave a tiny nod, evading both their gazes.

Irri looked at them awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“We’ll stay here for a while,” Dany told her. “We’ll let you know in a bit.”

“Yes, yes…take your time. I’ll just…go inside.”

Once the door closed, Dany said, “What are you doing, Daario? Look at yourself. Do you want to condemn them to a life without a mother? Do you want your kids because you want to raise them, or do you want to win this fight against me by taking them as a trophy? Parents protect their children. Parents raise them and teach them and do everything they can to make them happy.” She sighed. “Look at you. You don’t want them happy. You just want them for yourself.”

“That’s not true. They’ll have a better life with me.”

“You don’t have the time to raise them. And can you cook? clean?”

“Daenerys, you won’t be able to provide for them. You don’t do anything!”

“Stop saying that I don’t do anything! I do so much! So much! And I'm leaving so I can do more! _Without _you I’ll be able to work. And don’t forget you have a legal responsibility to provide for Daemon and Visen—”

“Hey guys, how—” A couple of friends greeted them as they arrived and shut up right away once they saw their red and damp faces.

Daario turned his back to them and mouthed to Dany, “Lower your voice.”

There was nothing he’d hate more than others listening he wouldn’t provide for his kids.

Dany told them, “Hey, we’ll come in in a bit.”

She hoped that they had listened to what she had just said. He wouldn’t bear the humiliation of being an irresponsible father.

He opened the door of the car, told her to go together somewhere else to talk and then come back. She said no and closed the door. He opened it. She closed it again. She’d rather suck up the embarrassment, she felt safer here.

“Fuck, Daario,” she exhaled. “I’m exhausted. I can’t keep on fighting. The harder this separation is, the worse it will be for the kids. If this goes on calmly, you’ll see your kids every week, that’s a promise. But if you keep on showing that you can’t control your impulses, I can’t let you see them all the time. You scare them. You gotta work on your faults. You gotta show us explicitly that you’re making an effort to be a better father. You blame me, saying that I’m the one who makes you be aggressive, but no one deserves that treatment. You don’t know how to control yourself and you don’t care about learning to do so. But now, you’ll do so. You have no choice.” More laughs from parents weirdly filled their silence.

“I can change if you guys stay.”

“Why do you want me to go back home? I’m not the woman I was before, you said it. And you’re absolutely right about that. You will never have that Dany back. How can I make you understand? I’m done with you.”

He supported himself against his car, his hand trembled against his face. “I’m dizzy,” he said. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“Let me go, you have no choice. No choice. Because I’m leaving anyway. It’s up to you if it will go on smoothly or not. I won’t take any of your things. Your house, your car, whatever. I want nothing from you.” Only her freedom. “We’re very different people. But we have something in common: we both love our kids. And we love them madly, with every inch of our hearts. You’ll still be their dad. You’ll still be there for them, just not in their daily life, when most of the conflicts arise.”

He supported his forehead on the car with his eyes shut. He knew his hands were tied. There was no way he could raise the kids on his own.

She went on, “I wanted you and me to sit in bed with the kids and tell them that we decided to live separately. I wanted the four of us to stay in the house at least for a couple of days for the transition to be smoother for them. But you’ve shown me, though, that you only think about you, by taking the car and rushing here to get them first. How can I trust you? After you’ve tried to take them from me?”

“Because I love my children! How could I let you do this?”

“Of course you love them. That’s why you have to let them live with me. If you take them, I don’t think you’ll be able to live with that, because you love them.” No tears were falling off her face anymore. “You’re a smart guy, Daario. Think. There are four courses of action: One, you take them and don’t let me see them again. They’ll grow up unhappy and _hating _you. Not only I’m the one who spends more time with them and knows them better, they already sort of fear you. You’ll only make it worse. Two, you take them and let me see them again. You _still_ have no time to raise them, anyway. Three, I take them and don’t let them see you. They’ll grow up unhappy too, and confused, but at least I’ll protect them from you and your aggressive behaviors. Four, I take them and you can see them on the weekends, and some weekday evenings too. You can do all those things you guys like to do together. And they’ll still have their mum and dad." He shut his eyes. "Which one’s the best option?”

“I guess the fourth one,” he finally said.

“You would have a stronger case in your favor for their custody if you had been a better father. If you had had more time for them and had paid enough attention to know them well. The fact that you can’t take them and raise them on your own is a consequence of your actions. You made me do everything, so you made me the best one at parenting. You have no practice in raising kids on your own, but I do. Thanks to you. You paved this road.”

He hit the door of the car with the side of his fist.

“I won’t tell them anything bad about you,” she went on. “I’ll always make sure they love you and see you as a great dad, but you have to do your part, which you aren’t doing right now. You have to earn your place with the kids. You have to drop that attitude of treating us badly, you have to cooperate with a smooth divorce, and, later, you have to do your part as a dad and raising figure. And you’ll always financially support them.”

He sniffed and wiped his tears again. “I’ve never been in a pain like this one. Never in my life.”

She sighed. “I guess you don’t wanna show your face to others like this.” He shook his head. “Neither do I. But I’ll do so anyway. And I’ll take them to my mother’s house.”

He didn’t reply. She dried her tears and rang the doorbell. Rakharo, Irri’s husband, opened the door.

“I’m going in to pick up the kids,” Dany told him, and he stepped aside to let her in.

“Will you wait outside or will you go in too?” Rakharo asked Daario.

“I’ll wait.”

“Then, I’ll wait too,” he replied, and stood at the door next to Daario.

People in the living room turned to look at her, speechless at her red face.

She walked past them with a quick, “Hi,” as she went to the garden to find her kids. They were playing in inflatable games and went up to her when they saw her. They begged her to stay longer.

“Five more minutes,” she said. Maybe Daario could have some time for himself to think. She needed a pause from him too.

She sat down on a chair on her own. Myrcella and Irri came over and sat next to her.

“Are you alright?” Irri asked.

Dany shut her eyes in shame. _‘It’s nothing,’ _she wanted to say. They didn’t even know each other that well. But why should she deny it this time? Why should she keep on defending him? She could use some help, too.

“No,” Dany replied. She put her hands on her face. “I just told him I want a divorce. He doesn’t want it. He rushed here to try to take the kids from me.”

“Shit,” Myrcella said. “Daario? I can’t believe it. He always looked like such a darling.”

Dany felt the gazes of people around her, perhaps wondering if they should or shouldn’t approach her. Daario wouldn’t be able to stand that.

“Is there any way we can help you?” Myrcella asked. Dany shook her head. “Dany, people everywhere can help you somehow. Maybe there’s _some way…_” She took out her phone and sent her a phone number. “My sister’s lawyer.”

Dany shook her head. “I can’t afford it.”

“How do you know?”

“I can’t afford barely anything right now.” It was embarrassing to say so in a house as fancy as this one. “I know what I need,” she said. “A job. I really need a job.”

“What sort of job?” Irri asked.

“Any. I'd prefer to get one related to painting. But if there’s something else, I’ll take it.” She laughed, pitying herself. “I have paintings I can sell, but I also have a master's degree. I could teach.” And she was doing nothing about it.

“Okay. We’ll ask around,” Myrcella said. “Send us your CV or your portfolio.”

“Do you need a place to stay for some days? Or even some weeks?” Irri asked. The world was much kinder than what she thought it was. “We have two guest rooms. I’m sure my kids will be happy to have yours over.”

“Thank you. We have a place to stay, though,” she replied with a soft smile.

Daario called her. She took a deep breath before picking up.

“You coming?” he asked.

“Go home, Daario,” she said, pressing the space between her eyebrows.

“At least let me say goodbye to them,” he said.

She sighed. She guessed it was alright. “Just don’t let them see you acting aggressively. I’ll treat you well in front of them, but control yourself too. Think about how scared Visenya was when she saw us the other night, how she kept on being scared even after it all passed.” Irri and Myrcella looked at each other with a worried gaze. “Let’s keep it together in front of them.”

“Okay,” he said.

“How can I trust you, though?” she asked. He had just stormed out of the house to come and take the kids not so long ago.

“The only thing worse than losing my wife would be for my kids to fear me or hate me too.”

She believed him.

“Okay. Please, remember that now and for the rest of your life. We’re coming out in a second.”

She hung up the phone.

Dany told the kids that it was time to go and even though they complained, they ended up following her to say goodbye to Irri and leave the house.

“We’re going to grandma’s,” she said. She didn’t want to take them away from their house so quickly, she guessed it had been naive of her to think that she and Daario could have had a calm conversation with the kids about this. She put on a smile for them. “She’ll be waiting for us with delicious cookies she’d been making all afternoon, says they’re delicious.”

“Let me know when you’re home safe,” Irri told her as she left.

They met up with Daario outside. Rhakharo was still standing at his doorstep.

Daario squatted and hugged the kids. “Did you have fun?”

“So much fun!” Daemon said. “Mum says we’re going to grandma’s now.”

Daario looked up at her. “I’ll go with you.”

Dany shot him an angry look.

The kids went into the Lexus and Daario told her quietly, “This can’t be my last moment with them. Let me say goodbye there.”

She and he got into each car. Dany drove to her mother’s house, breathing deeply, as the kids talked about all the games they had played that afternoon. Daario followed them in his car. She watched him in the rear-view mirror, still nervous about what he could do.

They parked outside of Rhaella’s place and got out of the car. Before opening the kids’ doors, she said: “You know, she won’t let you in, right?”

He opened Daemon’s door anyway, helping him out of his seat.

Dany rang the doorbell and Rhaella opened up. She greeted the kids with a smile and a hug.

“Say goodbye,” Dany mouthed to Daario.

“No,” he said. “Wait.”

She sighed. “Guys, go inside. Go try grandma’s cookies.” She looked at Rhaella and said. “I’ll be there in a second.” Before Daario could complain, Dany shot him an angry look and said quietly, “We’ll talk here.”

“Let me know if you need me,” Rhaella told Dany before closing the door and leaving them both on their own.

“Just let me in,” Daario told Dany. “I want to be there when you tell them you’ll move out. And about taking the car and rushing to pick them up… I—It was impulsive.”

“That’s what worries me about you. How can I know you won’t blurt out something impulsive in front of them if we have that talk with you?”

“I won’t… Dany, I love my kids more than anything in this world. You have no clue.”

“You’ve lost your chance,” she said, shaking her head.

“But don’t you think they want a big hug from their dad before they move to another house? They’re gonna think that I don’t care about them because we didn’t have a proper goodbye… that I let them leave just like that.” Dany pursed her lips in thought “_Please. _I swear I’ll behave. I swear.”

Was this manipulation? She couldn’t tell. But for the sake of her kids, she would let them have a proper goodbye.

“Stay here.”

She went into the house and she and Rhaella talked in a low voice, apart from the kids. Rhaella obviously didn’t want to let Daario into her house.

“Just to say goodbye,” Dany said, but her palms were sweating. Was he telling the truth? “Anything happens and you’re completely free to kick him out.”

Rhaella agreed hesitantly and walked out, stood in front of Daario, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “You raise your voice, and you’re out of my house. You raise a hand to her and I'll call the police.”

He walked in and Rhaella went upstairs to give them privacy. He sat in the living room and Daemon ran to him with a cookie.

“Thank you, son,” he said, took the cookie and kissed his head.

“Guys, please, come sit here with us.”

Daemon sat on a couch with Daario and Visenya sat with Dany in front of them. Dany put her arm around her. Daario did the same with Daemon.

“Dad and I have decided we would be a better family if we lived separately,” she said.

Daario pursed his lips and looked at the ground.

“What do you mean?” Visenya asked. “Dad won’t live with us anymore?”

“Where will you go?” Daemon asked him.

Daario didn’t open his mouth. She had never been in a situation where she had the lead of the conversation and not him.

“He’ll stay in the same house,” Dany said, “but the three of us are moving out.”

Daemon gasped. “But I want to see him.”

“Me too,” Daario said quietly, and hugged him.

“You’ll still see him, just not every day,” Dany said.

“And us?” Visenya asked. “Where will we live?”

“Here,” Dany replied.

“Here?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Come here, Vis,” Daario said.

Visenya stood up reluctantly and walked to him, he held her hand and helped her sit on his lap. He kissed her cheek. His free arm hugged Daemon on his side.

Daario said, “I love you two so much.”

“Then why are you leaving us?” Daemon asked.

“I’m not leaving you, it’s your mum who—”

“Both of us,” she interrupted him, “made the decision that this family will be happier if we don’t live under the same roof. It has nothing to do with the amount of love your dad has for you.”

He talked quietly to the kids. She stood up and sat on Daemon’s other side to listen better.

“Think about me every day,” he told them. “I will think about you every day. Ask your mum to call me, to come visit me at the house, to go surfing with me, to go out with me to the movies, or to the zoo…” She pursed her lips. Now that he knew there was no way he could live with them, he would put them on his side. “My heart is breaking to pieces because of this.” A tear left Visenya’s eye. “I wish this didn’t have to happen. I hope you always love me as much as I love you, or even just a fraction of how much I love you.”

“I love you,” Daemon said.

“I love you,” Visenya said too.

“I can’t live without you,” Daario told them, and now it felt like he was repeating the speech he had told her earlier that day.

Visenya kissed his cheek.

Checkmate. She was in a position where she couldn’t cut him off completely from the kids’ lives—even though a part of her wanted to—without them remembering this moment.

Dany said, “We both love you so much, more than anyone else on the planet. But we _can _go on in separate ways, we don’t _have _to live under the same roof.”

Daario cried, Visenya cried too. Dany brought napkins for them from the kitchen.

“Does this make you sad?” Daario asked Visenya.

“Yes.”

“Me too,” he said, wiping his tears.

He had said the truth about not raising his voice. Rhaella would never have to come downstairs. It felt like he had won this round.

“How often will we see you, then?” Daemon asked.

“On the weekends,” Dany answered softly.

“What about school?” Visenya asked Dany.

“You’ll still go to your same school,” she replied, “and you’ll hang out with your same friends. Not much will change.” She kissed Daemon on the head. “This will be better for all of us.” But that didn’t make sense after what Daario had told them.

“It’s time to get ready for bed,” Dany said.

“And our stuff?” Visenya asked.

“It’s already here, upstairs.”

They said goodbye to Daario with a long hug and the three of them stood at the doorstep as they watched him get into his car. He waved at them with a sad smile, they waved back, and he drove off.

The sound of the door closing, of not seeing him for a while, was loud and liberating. She would not come back home to Daario again, nor he would come back home to her.

She took a deep breath to hold her tears back, to be strong for her kids, but it was a silent evening anyway. They ordered food for dinner and the kids watched a movie before getting ready for bed. Rhaella had two free rooms for them: one for Dany and one for both the kids. She showed them their bedroom, with two mattresses on the floor. The beds were made and she had brought their favorite toys. Dany had already unpacked the suitcases and put their clothes in their closet and bureau. She checked her phone. She had a text from Irri asking her if she and the kids were okay. She replied to her quickly. She wanted to talk to Jon more than anyone else right now, but she had to tend her kids first.

“Can the mattresses be together?” Visenya asked. She and Daemon liked to sleep side by side as they were afraid of the dark.

They pushed the mattresses to close the space between them and the three of them lay down together.

Dany told them, “I know you guys have seen and heard things, arguments between your dad and I, which I wish you hadn’t. We’ve been having some problems… we will always care about one another, but we just won’t live together.”

“Is this because I misbehave?” Daemon asked. “You guys have argued about how I misbehave…”

“No!” Dany said.

“No,” Visenya said, “it's because _I_ misbehave.”

“Nothing about this separation is about either of you. Only about your dad and me.”

“Because he was mean to you?” Visenya asked.

“Because in separate houses…we will argue less… and the four of us will still be okay. Better, actually. You’ll keep on seeing him, but he won’t be angry… as before, he’ll be kinder. He’s promised so.” She hoped it was true.

“You and dad had problems, so you left,” Visenya said.

“Yes,” Dany replied.

“But you or dad won’t ever leave me or Daemon if we have problems?” she cried.

Daemon gasped.

“No, never.” She hugged them both and kissed their heads. “Parents love their children more than anyone else in the world. They love them more than they love themselves. I will be with you always. Dad loves you too, that’s why it hurts him that he won’t see you every day anymore. But you guys will still hang out. He won’t be gone. He’ll always be present. No one in this family has abandoned anyone.” Dany kissed Daemon’s head and said. “I’ll bring the bed frames soon, and more of your toys, too.”

“How long will we be here, though?” Daemon asked.

“A while, love,” Dany replied.

“Can’t dad move out and the three of us stay in the house? It’s bigger. This garden is tiny.”

“The trampoline fits here, anyway," Dany said. "We’ll bring it soon, too. And we can’t stay in the house and kick dad out.”

“Why?”

‘_He would never allow it,’_ she wanted to say, or, _‘It’s his house_,’ but instead said, “Grandma will help me out with you guys and that will be a huge help for me. And she loves us and we love her, so why not keep her company? We’re gonna have fun here, too!” She smiled and caressed Visenya’s head.

Visenya asked her, “Mummy, why don’t you cry? Don’t you mind about this?”

“Of course I do,” she said. “Of course I do, I…” she closed her eyes and a tear fell down her cheek right away, as if it had been waiting for permission to do so. “It’s just that… even though this new beginning might seem scary, trust me when I say that it will be better for all of us. I’m sorry for taking you out of a house you like, where you can run and jump and play football, but we don’t need a big house to be happy. Just like we can be unhappy in a big house, we can be happy in a small one. I wish I could give you everything because you deserve the world. But most of all you deserve love and happiness, that is much more valuable than any toy or house. A house can be bought, toys can be bought, but a home with love and harmony can't. I’m not sure how long we’ll be here, but I promise I’ll do my best for you to be happy, no matter the size of the place we’re in. You can still go there on the weekends or tell your friends to go there with you if your dad is okay with it. I hope that you can understand. If not now, when you’re older.”

When the kids were asleep, she went to Rhaella’s bedroom. Her eyes were still red.

“It’s done,” Rhaella said, hugging her. “There’s no way back now. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve broken up with a toxic man. I’m supposed to be jumping in glee. It hurts.”

“It will hurt for a while,” Rhaella said. “Come sit here,” she said, and they sat together on the edge of the bed. “You care about him. He’s the father of your children and he has fulfilled your needs—emotional and sexual needs—for a long time. It _feels_ like a loss, but just _feels_. It’s not a loss. In a not so distant future, you _will _jump in glee. You’ll thank yourself forever for this.”

She lay with Rhaella in bed and they hugged each other. She had no idea when had been the last time in her life she had lay on her mother’s bed.

Rhaella said, “You have to be prepared because, at least for a while, he’ll become a bigger asshole than before. Maybe not just for a while but forever.”

“For now, I feel like I don’t wanna see his fucking face ever again. Like, just the thought of seeing him again when I’ll go pick up more stuff from the house makes my head hurt. But you know, I actually hope the day comes when he and I can sit down together and talk about all this. I’m willing to always be in contact with him for the kids, even though I feel like I don’t ever want to see him again. I want us to heal with a coffee and a conversation about our kids, but also about our past, about our mistakes and our changes. I don’t want to spend my whole life holding grudges against him. It’s tiring.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t know if it’s stupid, but I hope this shift in power can put him between a rock and a hard place. He’s tried to put them on his side but I’m the one who’ll live with them. He’ll have to change to have more benefits with the kids. There’s a programme for abusive husbands and ex-husbands that they’ve recommended us in the support group.”

“I think it's the best option now, for him to get therapy. If you cut him off completely, it will be much worse. He’ll make your life a nightmare.” Rhaella sighed. “Marriage doesn’t bound people for life. Children do.”

“Absolutely,” Dany replied. “Daemon and Visenya are the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I wish they weren’t his. They deserve a better father.” She closed her eyes and thought about Jon at home with them. How would their life be if they had had children? “All these years I had been struggling to keep peace at home, to love him, for _them. _But I think it had only been like a tape over a hole of leaking water, eventually, the pressure would have pushed it out all the same.”

“You’re strong, you’re smart. You would have left sooner or later. But it’s not like that for every woman. Many stay with their abusers forever. The pressure doesn’t necessarily push out the tape. Sometimes you fight all your life to press on. That’s a real tragedy.”

“That’s awful. I don’t even want to imagine myself in forty years next to him. What a nightmare.” After a while of silence, she said, “Mum, the food expenses will be on me, okay? And on Daario, of course.”

“You’ll run out of money soon. I can help with some stuff too…”

“I hope I can get a job soon. Selling paintings isn’t too recurrent. I could even get a job as a waitress, I don’t care.”

“You don’t have an M.F.A. to work as a waitress.”

“I know,” she said, and exhaled deeply.

“What are your friends from grad school working in?”

“Some sell their art, some are interior designers, but most work in something unrelated to the arts and paint in their free time. I’ve asked around, Jon’s asking around too. I need contacts in art schools.”

“Write to your school, to your previous teachers.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But still, I’ll help out while I can during your job search.”

“I cannot be grateful enough,” Dany said. “For everything.”

Rhaella smiled. “I’m happy I’ll have you three living with me. You can stay here as long as you want to.”

“I’ll try not to stay here for too long. And the older the kids get, the more they need an independent bedroom.”

“What if you stay in my house and I move to a flat? You’ll have a room for you and a room for each of them.”

Dany widened her eyes. “No, mum. You’re already doing too much for me.”

“I’m offering you a _big _opportunity here,” she said, but Dany shook her head anyway. “Is this about Jon? Because you want to move with him?”

“No,” she said. “Well, not yet.” Rhaella sighed. “Well, I don’t want us to move in with him, I want him to move in with us.”

“Dany, you don’t need a man,” Rhaella said. “You don’t always have to be dependent on someone.”

“Why does loving someone have to mean that I’m dependent?” Dany replied with a frown. “Okay, I don’t need a man all the time, but I’m happy with him and he helps me be a better person. Does that mean that I have to be single my entire life to be a _strong, independent woman_? I know that's your case, and that's great, but it's not mine. And we know that if this can’t work out, we’ll break up.”

“You know it’s never that simple.”

“No. But we’ve done it before.”

She wanted to talk to him now. He was probably wondering how she was right now.

“Goodnight mum,” Dany said. “I love you.”

* * *

Once she was in her bed, she texted Jon: ‘I made it, and I’m okay.’

‘You are?! I’m so relieved. I had been so worried about you all day.’

‘Well, I’m not _okay okay_, it was a bit messy but I’m here at my mum’s.’

‘Did he harm you?’

‘No. He mostly played the victim. And we were watched, so he didn’t dare to cross the line.’

‘Watched?'

‘I’ll tell you all the details tomorrow.’

‘Okay. I wanna give you a hug.’

She smiled. ’And I want to receive that hug so bad. I’ll go over on Monday morning.’

‘Perfect. This will sound weird but can I… congratulate you?’ he asked.

She chuckled and wiped a tear. ‘For getting a divorce?’

‘For finally standing up to someone who had been stepping over you for so long. For being strong enough. I hope you never doubt your strength in the future after what you just did.’

‘I guess you could congratulate me…’

‘Congratulations, then. Believe me when I say that I’m not just happy because I have you for me now,’ she chuckled, ‘but because I’m genuinely happy for you.’

‘I believe you.’ She chuckled to herself. ‘It’s funny. Usually, people get congratulated when they get married. Well, I don’t think our marriage had been worthy of congratulations. What was there to congratulate us for? Falling for someone whom we didn’t know well and wanting to stay together because we were emotionally needy and had a baby on the way?’

‘At least you guys were happy for a while, and you were happy back then, when you got married. It makes sense to celebrate joy.’

‘But it was a joy without a foundation. It was so shallow…’

‘Well, you’re free now, and free to feel genuine joy.’

‘Yeah. I can’t wait to see you on Monday, it will make me so happy. The environment here is pretty dull and tense. We’re not talking much, nor laughing either. I wish I could call you instead of just text you, but I don’t want to risk the kids eavesdropping.’

‘Then can I send you something to cheer you up? A present?’

‘Don’t. There can be no trace here that I’m dating you. The kids can’t know you yet.’

‘Not even the favorite dishes of all of you for lunch tomorrow? I mean, I won’t be able to see you till Monday. You don’t even have to tell your mum I sent it. I can put them in generic paper bags without our logo for them not to tell it was from my restaurant. You can even say it’s from my competition. I don’t care.’

She chuckled. ‘Alright, if you really want to do it that bad, then yes, I accept your present.’

‘Good food always makes a day a little less miserable. And I don’t think tomorrow will be a happy day for you guys, either.’

‘Okay.’ She smiled. ‘Thank you, Jon. I love you very much.’

‘I love you too. Get some sleep now, crying is exhausting.’

Daario started sending her countless texts, asking her again to think this through. Telling her that he was willing to let this go and get back with her. She only muted her phone and went to bed.

The next morning, there were so many messages and voicemails from him it was clear he didn’t get any sleep. He apologized again and again, promising to change, to not make her cook again, to tell everyone about the paintings she was selling, to even hang her paintings in his office in the bank for everyone to see them. It was too late now.

‘You have no idea how lonely the house is without you guys,’ he had written.

This was the first time in his life he had slept in that house on his own.

She only replied by saying: ‘This is already hard, Daario. Don’t make it harder, not to me, not to them, and not to yourself. Fighting it will only make it worse. Get some sleep today. You need some time on your own to assimilate this.’

The kids got up and she asked them to help her and Rhaella make breakfast. Beginnings were never easy, but she'd rather have a difficult freedom than an easier captivity.

_The Separation by Edvard Munch_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAYYYYYY I had been working on this chapter for so long and I'm happy it finally emerged from its cave!! I had been writing and rewriting different versions of it and this is the one that I think suits Daario’s character best. 
> 
> Jonerys will be back next chapter. I know we don't particularly enjoy Daario's presence but this is an important moment for Dany and I couldn't just portray it in a small scene. She needed a full chapter of this.
> 
> BTW there is a new show on Netflix called History 101 and there’s an episode about feminism where they list the countries where it’s legal for husbands to prevent their wives from working. They’re like 20 and they’re mainly in Africa, the Middle East, and also in South America. I'm shookethhhh.
> 
> Finally, if you guys are in an abusive relationship, or are wondering if your relationship may be abusive, seek help. It may be embarrassing, but talk to friends and family about it. If this ever gets to a legal conflict, you need witnesses and you need proof. 
> 
> I recommend these books: “Too Good To Leave, Too Bad To Stay” by Mira Kirshenbaum and “Why Does He Do That?” by Lundy Bancroft. Both have been of incredible use to me to build Daario’s character and his relationship with Dany.


	14. Wounds and Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You say the hill's too steep to climb  
Chiding  
You say you'd like to see me try  
Climbing  
You pick the place and I'll choose the time  
And I'll climb  
The hill in my own way  
Just wait a while, for the right day  
And as I rise above the treeline and the clouds  
I look down hearing the sound of the things you said today  
[x](https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=share&v=TeyHPAdxuy0) _

_Moonlight Over the Bay At Cadaques by Salvador Dali_

* * *

**PART I: WOUNDS AND SCARS**

She walked into Jon’s flat on Monday morning and their arms locked in a tight hug. She rested her head on his shoulder and he kissed it.

“You’ve slept well?” he asked her.

“Yeah, better than most days,” she replied. “And you?”

“The bell ringing woke me up,” he replied and yawned, still in his pajamas and with messy hair. “I’m still half asleep.”

She chuckled. “Sorry, I make you wake up too early every day.”

He ran his hands down her arms and kissed her above the ear. “I actually have something to give you.”

He took a pair of keys from the kitchen counter and handed them to her. “I had them made on the weekend. You come over almost every day, I figured you could have a copy of my keys.”

She received them and hugged his waist. “I’ll sneak into your bed every morning from now on.” She placed kisses down his jaw all the way to his chin and then pressed her lips on his. She let go with a chuckle. “This is the first kiss I’m giving you without cheating.”

So far, they both had avoided the word cheating like a silent, tacit agreement, as if not using it would make the cheating less real, but she could now put it behind.

She showed him his ring finger. “Bare finger. And not because I’m hiding the ring on my purse, but because I gave it back to him.”

“You used to hide it in your purse?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to remind you I was married.”

He laughed. “Believe me, it was on my mind all the fucking time.”

While Jon had breakfast, she told him all the details about the conversation with Daario, which he had been waiting for these two days.

“I’m really proud of you,” he said. “I stood up to my boss, but you stood up to someone you were attached to for years.” She smiled at him and held his hand.

“You know, I always used to think that in my thirties my life would be sorted out.”

“I don’t know anymore if there will come a time when our life becomes sorted out, but it has been a year of growth, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She smiled to herself.

They sat on the couch. She placed her feet on it and he hugged her knees. She rested a hand on his neck and pressed kisses on his cheek.

“Would you rather live in a flat or a house?” he asked.

“The four of us?” she asked. He nodded. “I guess a house would be better for the kids. They need space. But, whatever we can afford, honestly. We just need three bedrooms.”

“Do you want to buy or rent a place?”

“Whatever we can afford,” she repeated.

“And in which area of the city?”

“Whatever we can afford. I don’t have a job yet so I can’t tell yet how much I’ll be able to pay.” She sighed. “Everything gets more expensive, the more I think about it. I haven’t sold a painting in a while and schools haven’t returned my emails. At least for a while, I need an income. You know a lot of chefs from other restaurants, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you ask around if they need a waitress, or a cashier, or whatever?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m not gonna wait around for a golden opportunity to suddenly show up. I gotta take what I can, at least for now.”

“You’ll have less time to paint.”

“I know.” She sighed. “But my family is first.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Well, if we won’t have a garden, we’ll need a place with a balcony,” she said, “or else I don’t know where you’ll put all those plants.”

“If there’s no space I can give them away.”

She shook her head. “No way. It will all be so new to you. You’ll need the things that you’re used to, those bits of your previous life. I want you to feel at home there too.”

He kissed the side of her forehead and rested his head on hers. She closed her eyes.

“Also, I think we’ll need four bedrooms, not three,” he said quietly.

“Why?”

“Where will you paint?”

“Oh.” She had not even thought about that. “I can find a corner in the house, maybe even on the garage.”

He shook his head. “You need a room of your own. Your stuff takes up a lot of space.”

She placed his hand on his. “We’ll see.”

“I wonder how long will we have to wait to tell him about us,” Jon said.

“I think that if we wait for him to be cool about me dating again, we would wait for a long time. Instead, we should wait for the kids to have some time to adapt to this new life and to understand that their dad and I aren’t romantically involved anymore.”

“How are they, right now?”

“Still a little confused,” she said. “But I love how they really have each other’s backs, despite their fights or arguments.”

“Do you think they’ll remember me when they see me? From the supermarket.”

“Maybe. They’re smarter than what we give them credit for.”

“I really hope they’ll like me.”

“They will. I’ll tell you everything they like and you’ll have the best conversation topics with them, and you can cook with us and paint with us.” She kissed his lips. “You’re amazing. Everyone who knows you, likes you.”

“Except the previous chef,” he said.

“Right. But you won’t be like him, one day angry, one day loving. You’re kind and attentive. That’s a great addition to the family.”

She showed him an album on her phone only with pictures of the kids, since they were babies, and talked to him about them, from their personality traits to anecdotes about them.

“There aren’t that many pictures of them, lately. They get all annoyed when I want to take pictures of them now. I don’t blame them. I do it all the time. It’s just sad to think that in a not so distant future they’ll become teenagers and spend less and less time with me, they might study elsewhere, they’ll move out… I don’t want them to depend too much on me, either. We need time to take them to playgrounds and all that. I want them to spend more time outside with other kids than inside with me, only watching a movie or playing with legos and stuff like that. When we were kids, we played outside with other kids much more. Kids learn a lot through play.”

He took his phone out. “I have to write down all these things you’re saying. Now, an important question: what do they like and what do they don’t like to eat?”

She laughed and told him the dishes and ingredients they liked or didn’t.

“Daemon has trouble eating, right? I can work around that,” he said.

“He drives me crazy with that. He’s so picky with food.” She sighed. “Be prepared, Jon. Things will probably be more difficult now than what they were these past months. This will be a test for our patience and our love. And then, once you move in, learning to be a dad will be even more difficult.”

“Is there any book or blog or website you recommend me to learn about parenting?”

“Yeah, I’ll send them to you, but I guess that there might be some specific ones for stepdads.” She pressed more kisses on his cheek in joy. “What else can I tell you? Visenya is a little arrogant with other girls, but on the inside, she’s a little insecure, I think. She likes to play football, so if you could play with her as a bonding activity that would be great.”

“I’m terrible at football, but I’ll try. I guess I don’t need that much talent to play against kids.”

“Watch out, she’s actually pretty good. Start training from now. And by the way, they want to learn to surf.”

“So _that’s _why you asked me the other day if I could surf!”

She chuckled. “You caught me. I learned how to stand up on the surfboard when I got here to King’s Landing, but I couldn’t ride the waves on my own, though. I’ve forgotten everything, I bet. It’s been a while.”

“I love the sea, but I never had the courage to try to surf. We should go to the beach one of these days,” he kissed her cheek, “and get deep into the sea until the water covers most of our bodies. He kissed her neck. And hug and kiss and… _touch each other_.”

She laughed. “I don’t know. Not yet.”

“We’ve already been to the beach together.”

“Yeah, but only sitting next to each other.”

“We kissed.”

“Briefly.”

“Still.”

“No,” she said seriously. “We have to be more careful now. What if he follows me around? Or hires a private detective?”

“Okay, you’re being paranoid.”

“I don’t know. From now on, I think it’s better if we don’t even go together to the ice cream shop and just meet up here, until I introduce you to him.”

He curved his lips downward in a sad face.

“I’m not ready to jerk you off underwater in public.” She chuckled. “And by the way, now that we’re talking about sex… That feeling we had when Visenya interrupted us the other night… you’ll have to get used to it. They’re super afraid of the dark.”

“Alright. We could also fuck while they’re in school, before my shift starts.” He gasped. “My shift.” He looked at the time on his phone. “Come with me.”

They kept on talking in the bathroom while he got ready to go.

“And another question…” he said as he brushed his teeth, but trailed off.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head and kept on brushing his teeth.

“What?!” She giggled.

“No, nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Tell me!” She laughed. “You can tell me whatever you want.”

“I don’t know if it’s too optimistic of me but what if… after a while of living together… they want to call me ‘dad’?”

“Oh,” she said.

“Because I don’t think they should, by the way. I’m not their dad. I—”

“Look, I love you and I’m sure they’ll love you too, but Daario is their dad.”

“Yes.”

“He isn’t the perfect father, I know, but they love each other, and you’re not replacing him. They only have one dad and one mum, so I think it’s fair for Daario to be the only one they call ‘dad’.”

“I agree, I was just asking.”

He rinsed his mouth and she said, “Ugh. I have to see my ex tonight.”

He grinned. “Your ex! I love the sound of that. Why do you have to see him again?”

“I gotta pick up more stuff from the house and I have to give other stuff back to him, like the car.”

He was still grinning. “Your _ex_. I mean, I was already your number one, but now I’m officially your number one.”

She hugged him from behind and they stared at themselves in the mirror. She smiled at him and he smiled at her. She pressed a kiss on his neck and ran her hand down his boxer briefs, slowly stroking his cock over the fabric with her extended fingers.

“You know I don’t have much time.” He placed his hand above hers gently.

“Who said I need much time?” She kissed his neck and pressed her body against his. “Can’t we enjoy for a while that this finally isn’t an affair?” She asked. His hand left hers and she slowly unbuttoned his boxer briefs.

* * *

She put the small paintings in a suitcase and the big ones on the backseat of the car. She took some more toys for the kids, too. She did everything quickly, to avoid giving Daario the chance to talk. In the living room, she saw all the framed photos of the kids, of her wedding with Daario, of the four of them at the zoo and was drawn to them immediately. Daario stood next to her and watched them too.

“Daenerys, it’s been two days,” he said, “and I cannot fathom a life like this. We’ve been so happy together.” He stared at their photos attentively.

She didn’t want to reply. She just wanted to leave and not talk to him again. But it was hard to hold herself back.

“I’ve lived with you the two happiest moments of my life: the birth of my two kids. I thought I had forgotten… all the suffering in my life. But having been happy together in the past doesn’t mean that we’ll be so in the future as well.”

He held the photo of them on their wedding day and watched it closely. She tried to pretend she wasn’t looking.

“This is honestly a perfect memory. It was a perfect day and a perfect night and… we had a perfect relationship, too.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “We found in each other the promise of happiness, marriage and kids and a perfect relationship, but… we saw that on each other because we were lonely. We were passionate because we were lonely.”

“That’s not true.”

“We wanted to be engaged like our friends and we wanted company. We should’ve realized that this was just possessive love.” She turned around and headed towards the door. “You can keep all these pictures of the kids.” She had them all on her phone, anyway.

Before she left, he said, “The other day I saw the annotations you wrote on The Odyssey.”

“What?” she asked with a frown.

“It was always on your nightstand. You were reading it every night. And you marked with a Post-it one page specifically. I was curious, naturally. I saw that _‘Love shouldn’t be possession’_ annotation you wrote. Didn’t know it made you think of me.” He looked to the ground and walked towards her. “But, you know, Odysseus isn’t the only hero in the story. So was Telemachus, for example, or…_Penelope_.”

“Oh, _please._” Dany rolled her eyes.

“What? You don’t find virtue in Penelope?”

“She’s overrated.”

“I think we’ve had different readings of the same book,” he said.

“Yes, I think we have.”

“I think she’s amazing. Ten years waiting for Odysseus. _That_ is commitment. That’s marriage. She could have had anyone else, but—”

“But Odysseus was actually good to her! Completely worth the wait! And commitment only came from her side. During his travels, he could fuck anyone he wanted to, but Penelope… she rejected like a hundred men. Odysseus could be free and live in every way he could, while she had to stay locked up. I don’t want to be like her, locked inside four walls for _you _to achieve all your goals_. _I’d rather get out to the unknown and live and learn and grow. I know love is giving. But it’s also giving to myself. Not only to others. I need to get out and live without you.”

“Yes, he travels the world and learns and grows… but remember the ending,” Daario said, walking slowly towards her. “He comes back home.”

“This,” she waved her hand, signaling the whole house, “is not my home. It’s yours. I’m a guest.” For not saying ‘servant’. “Commitment is overrated as fuck. We don’t even share common goals, common dreams for our future. We see life in a different way. How can we stay together for the long-term if our idea of long-term just isn’t the same?”

“It just bothers me that you don’t even think about me and how I feel and how your actions are affecting _me. _You and the kids and your love for me are what keep me going, what make me want to be a better person.”

“No. I am doing you no good,” she said firmly. “On the contrary, your dependence on me, and my compliance with you, is also hurting you.”

“This, right now, is what hurts me. You are hurting me. No, you are _ruining my life,_” he said.

“I’m _not_ ruining your life. I used to feel like you had ruined my life. But I won’t give you that power over me anymore. Don’t give me that much power over you, Daario. Let’s be free. You don’t control me, i don’t control you. There’s so much more to your life than me.”

“But… but…” he was clearly running out of arguments. “But our vows…”

“Don’t talk to me about vows, you have broken a shitload of them. You’ve treated me like shit for years. _That_ is breaking vows.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to hurt me back. I’m sorry. I’ve always apologized when I’ve crossed the line. I’ve always regretted it,” he said in a begging voice. “I suffer so much when I act like that, when I lose my patience and insult you, or when I talk to my kids in ways that make them fear me. I hate being like that, it’s horrible to not be able to act accordingly with my thoughts and values. I wish I was better, but sometimes I can’t! And I suffer so much from it. I suffer the most from it.”

“_You_ suffer the most?” Her eyes widened. “Your daughter is in therapy every week, fears her own father, goes around life confused, attacking other girls. I’ve had to keep up with your shit, to even clean even your fucking underwear instead of painting. You’ve made me feel worthless these years, like you’re amazing and I’m just a crutch in your life. You’ve driven me away from every other friend or relative I have, even my own mother. _You_,” she pointed at him, “have hurt me in so many ways. I’ve wasted eight years of my life with you.”

He placed covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t just be sorry, _change_. Face consequences for your actions. If it were for me I’d never see you again. But we have kids, so you need to go to therapy.” He nodded. “But not for a few months. In the long term. You gotta change and you gotta make amends to the ones you’ve hurt. You need to carefully build a relationship again with them, and one with me: a respectful relationship between ex-wife and ex-husband, as the mother and father of the same kids. This also means that we should try our best to get a smooth divorce. I don’t want to take your car, your house, nothing. Let's get to an agreement, your lawyer and mine can review it. I can’t fight in court. I can’t lose the little money I have. Do it for them, at least. You know they have to live with me because you can't raise them on your own.”

She went over to the car and took out a brochure. “This is what you need.” She handed it to him.

He looked at it in horror. “Therapy for _abusers_?!” She nodded. “What is wrong with you? Gods, I know I’ve hurt you but calling me an abuser?”

“Yes, Daario, you’re abusive.”

“What are you sa—”

“You _are_ abusive,” she repeated. “Right after Visenya had her _first _session with her psychologist, she had a private conversation with me and told me: ‘your husband’s abusing you’. I’ve been to support groups. To fucking support groups.”

“What?”

“And again, the moderator told me you’re an abuser.”

Daario only shook his head in disbelief. “You’re taking me for someone I’m not.”

“Your need to control me, your manipulations, the way you denigrated me, the way you hurt me, it was abuse. Read that brochure carefully,” she said. He shook his head. “And you have to follow it. It’s not just going to the therapy sessions, it’s putting into practice what they tell you.”

“Can’t I get another therapist?”

“No, you’ll follow this program specifically.” It was the one recommended by the support group. They would keep her updated about his performance. “Otherwise the kids and I will move to another city.”

“What?!”

“I’ve had a job offer to teach in an art school in The Westerlands the following semester.” That was a lie. “I haven’t accepted yet, I’m also looking for jobs in King’s Landing. But if you don’t show any consistency in going to therapy nor show us explicitly how you’re changing, I swear I will protect them and take them away from you. You want to keep on crying to them, telling them that I took them away from you and making me look like an evil woman if I don’t let them see you again? Fine. If we move somewhere else it’ll be a simpler excuse to keep you from seeing them.”

“Don't be such a bitch.” He frowned.

“Don't _call_ me that," she said firmly. "Things _don’t _have to get there, though. You’ve wanted to change for so long, but wanting isn’t enough. You’re between a rock and a hard place now. Face it, you’re not a good dad. You’ve tried to improve, but you’ve failed. So you need external help. What doesn’t bend, breaks. I’m giving you a choice.”

“You’ll make them hate me, won't you?”

“No. I won't talk ill about you to them. You’ll be a hero in their eyes but only if you show them you are one. Go to therapy and follow everything they say. But treat the kids wrong and you are done.”

“I won’t treat them wrong. I love them. They know I do. That’s why I have to keep on seeing them, I’ll become a better dad. And they’re crazy about learning to surf. Who else is gonna teach them?”

“Then make sure you’ll grow, at least do it for the kids, to be the best father in the world. You’ll see them every week, you can take them to travel around the world as you always wanted to as you teach them about the history of civilization and all these things you know so much about. I hope you grow. I hope you fall in love again, too. Things don’t have to be so difficult between us, but you’ll have to do your part. I won’t be a companion through this journey of healing, because you take me down with you. And I won’t allow that anymore. And the first step is to move on without me,” she said firmly. “Or you’ll have to move on without them, too.”

Two tears streamed down his face and he wiped them with his hand.

“I regret a lot of things, you know,” he said.

“I do too.”

“If I could go back in time, I would have done a lot of stuff differently.”

“Me too.”

“I just wanted a perfect family.” He placed his palm on his forehead and sighed. “You know I’m not a crier, but I’ve cried so much these days. I couldn’t get anything done at work today.”

She didn’t know if he was victimizing himself on purpose again, but he did have a good reason for being in genuine pain.

“Haven’t you realized that the people closest to us are the ones who hurt us the most?” She thought out loud. “I don’t care about what a random person I meet says about me, but I cared so much about what you said and did to me. Our deepest scars were made by those who are closest to us. So, we gotta choose wisely who we let so deeply into our lives.” She tried to meet his gaze, but he looked at the ground. “We’ll always be a scar on each other’s lives. But I hope that, together, we can get to a point where we won’t hurt the other anymore and put an end to this, but you gotta do your bit for us to get to this peace, because inside our marriage, inside this house, we can’t get to that peace.”

She turned around and walked towards the car.

“I want to give you back your car,” she said before she got in, “but I don’t know how else I’ll take the kids to school.”

“You should’ve thought about that before deciding to leave,” he said from the doorstep.

She ignored his comment. “Public transport?”

“No way they’re getting on public transport. Take them in a cab.”

“Four cabs every day just to drop them off? It’s too expensive. You could take them to school.”

“I work out in the mornings.”

“Well, maybe we could pay for one of the school’s vans to pick them up.”

“We? Or just me?”

“Can you pay for it?”

He stayed silent for a while and then said, “I can.”

“As soon as we hire the van, I’ll give you back the car, I promise. But I still need it to take them to school tomorrow, is that okay?”

He hesitated and nodded. He didn’t even use that car.

Even though he had tried to take them with him on Saturday, there was something clear about him: he knew he couldn’t be a single dad.

“Remember Calypso?” she asked him. “She helped Odysseus build a raft to leave her island, didn’t she? She let him go because she loved him. I’m not asking for much help with that raft. Just let me go. Just leave me alone.”

She got into the car but before she started the engine, he tapped the window.

“When can I see them?” he asked.

She held down a smile. Him asking her to make a decision?

“You can pass by tomorrow to say hi.” The kids had been asking for him, anyway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Just see them. Let’s not talk for a while. I need to be without you and I think you need to be without me too.”

“No…”

“You do. You gotta assimilate that we’re not together anymore. I mean, we’ll keep on talking about stuff regarding the kids, and I still gotta pick up their bed frames and some other stuff, but let’s drop the talk about our ex marriage. At least for a while.”

“No, Dany, there’s so much I wanna say…”

“Me too,” she said, “but I don’t think I will.”

She closed the window and took off.

_‘He comes back home,’_ Daario had said. But it maybe was the other way round. She and Jon said goodbye almost a decade ago, sailed for many years, and came back to one another now. Back home.

* * *

She opened the door of his flat as slowly and silently as possible and tiptoed to his bedroom. He was still asleep, lying down, with a leg stretched and the other one bent up, tangled in the sheets. Two books she had recommended him the previous day were on his bedside table. She smiled to herself.

She felt bad about waking him up, maybe she should just lie by his side until he woke up. But she wanted to surprise him too, now that she was using his keys for the first time.

His arse was staring at her, so it was the first part of him she wanted to touch.

She took out her clothes and stayed in her underwear for him to have a nicer surprise when he woke up. She carefully got into bed and slowly placed her fingertips on his buttock, over his briefs. She stroked it softly and her full hand covered it. He moaned softly but kept on sleeping. But when she lowered his boxer briefs and licked a buttock, he gasped and tried to turn around, but she had placed her body over his stretched leg so he couldn’t do so.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said with a smile.

He stared at her with small eyes. “Hi.”

She opened her mouth wide against his buttock as she ran her hand up and down his thigh.

“Sorry for waking you up,” she said. “If you want me to stop and let you sleep, I will.” But she opened his legs and licked his balls.

He moaned loudly and said, “Well, I’m already hard.” He turned around and she crawled up to his face.

They kissed as he ran his hands down his back and caressed her arse.

Soon, he was inside her.

* * *

As he walked back into the bedroom, naked and with a cup of coffee in hand, his enthusiasm didn’t match hers. She was leaning back against his pillows, wearing only her panties and resting after an orgasm, skimming through one of his new books. He sat in bed and looked out the window with a lost gaze.

“I like this,” she said, trying to catch his attention. “They say we should pick a day a week to spend it only with the family. It’s usually Sundays, but in their case, they’ll spend Sundays with their dad. So it could be…Thursdays? Given that you don’t work on Thursdays.”

It took him some seconds to reply. “Thursdays, yes.”

“What’s going through your head?” She asked him, tapping his back with her foot.

“Me? Nothing.” He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.

“I know your face, your posture… and I know that’s not how you look after fucking me that well.”

“I’m just tired after fucking you that well.” He left his mug on the nightstand and lay next to her. He hugged her hips and kissed her hipbone repeatedly, as he ran a hand down her thigh. “Wanna go again?”

She left the book on the bed and he sat up to lick her breast and open his mouth wide against it. She shut her eyes to enjoy it for a few seconds, but then pushed his head away from her.

“You’re avoiding to talk about something,” she said.

“Goddamnit.” He let his forehead fall on her chest.

“I’m not gonna force you to talk. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“Is there one day in your life when you’re not worried about anything?”

She hesitated and said, “No.”

“Well, same. There’s always something to worry about.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“The future! I always worry about the future.”

He didn’t go on, so she didn’t insist. She put on her blouse, grabbed the book, and kept on reading it. He grabbed his cup of coffee and sat back against the pillows next to her and placed his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him and they both read silently. He rested his mouth against her head and quietly said, “Have you ever heard of a case…”

“Hm?” She hummed.

He placed his forehead on her head and just as quietly, said, “Have you ever heard of a case of a woman who cheats on her husband, then she and the kids leave him, and then she and the lover raise the kids together?”

“No. I haven’t,” she replied with a confused frown. “Why are you asking me this?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think it’s socially acceptable. These books are all about new families that have been formed in a healthy way. There’s no section of ‘how to hide huge secrets from your stepchildren’.”

She sighed and closed the book. “_Woman cheats on her husband and leaves him. She and her lover raise the kids_,” she repeated his words. “Sounds awful.”

“I know.”

She let go of his embrace to face him.

“_Sounds_. These labels: liar, cheater,” she pointed at him, “_lover,_ they’ve been tormenting me for months. But let’s forget about labels for a second. He treated me badly, so I left him. Does it bother him? Obviously. Does he have to suck it up for being such a bad father and husband? Obviously. Making the lover the stepdad sounds awful, like taken out of a soap opera. I try not to care about what others will think. Daario and I always worried about that. Others don’t know the real picture: of him and me, and of you and me. Why should I care about their opinion?” He nodded, frowning in deep thought. “Labels are so tricky, aren’t they? Let me label this a different way: _abused woman and her kids leave abuser. She and her respectful boyfriend move together and raise the kids_.”

He chuckled. “I mean, when you put it that way…” He sighed and covered his face. “Cheating is so fucking complicated.” They chuckled softly. “But people won’t see us as the second version. Just as a couple of cheaters.”

“Wait. I’m not planning on telling others that I’ve cheated on Daario.”

“Will we hide this forever?”

“Of course we will.”

“Even from the kids?”

“_Especially_ from the kids.”

“Even when they get older?”

“Yes. Lying isn’t something I want them to learn from their mother.”

“Shouldn’t they know the truth at some point?”

“No. My love life has nothing to do with them.”

Jon scratched his chin. “So, will we lie and deceive them forever?”

She sighed. “I think we’ll have to, for the sake of the family. Look, it’s always uncomfortable to lie, or to hide a truth. I’ve experienced it well these past months. It’s difficult, it’s a burden, it makes you feel like…like a bad person. But I think we’ll have to live with it. The harmony of the family comes first. I value honesty, but we always hide things from the ones we love, right? I always tell my kids I’m doing okay for them not to worry. I never tell them the truth about my pain, I don’t think they should know. I don’t think they should know about the things their dad says to me, either. We always hide things from our kids.” She thought out loud. “Like, I would never tell them I suck dick.” Jon laughed out loud. “Or that you eat my ass. Or that we’ve done drugs.” She laughed. “This is between you and me, not between the kids and me, not between the kids and you.”

“But what if they somehow find out? They would hate me. They’re gonna say that I broke their parents’ marriage…”

“You haven’t done so, I’ll make sure they understand, if they ever find out. It is true, though, that you have helped me realize many wrong things about my marriage, but the reason why I’m leaving Daario is that he’s a dick.”

“Okay, but Daario… should _he_ know about this? If I end up being his kids’ stepdad at some point, we’ll have to talk to him beforehand, I guess.”

“Of course.”

“He’ll know I’m your ex.”

“He doesn’t have to know I cheated.”

“Should he?”

“Why?” She asked. He shrugged. “He should know you, as a person, I agree. But he shouldn’t know all the details about us.”

“Even if it started while you were married? Doesn’t he deserve to know?”

“_Does he_?”

He stayed silent for a while. “I just want to make sure that if we’ll lie forever about this, it won't be because it’s what most convenient to us—because we don’t want to feel humiliated, or because we don’t want to feel even guiltier—I want to make sure that this is the right thing to do.”

She sighed. “I don’t know. Really. I don’t know if the only moral course of action is telling him the truth. I don’t know if we’ll lie only because it’s convenient for us. It will be difficult to lie our entire lives, but life will be more difficult if Daario knows I cheated. I bet he won’t even let me see the kids again. He’ll be angry and hurt for life. I don’t want to hurt him even more. My friend Myrcella wasn’t able to trust men again for a long time after she got cheated on. I don’t want this for him. I can’t stand him, but I don’t want revenge. I’ve been so close to telling him I was cheating just to rub it in his face, to let him know that someone else was loving me, but I decided not to. He’s the father of my children. If he’s miserable, they’re miserable. I want him to grow and be a better person, this would only make it worse. In that scenario, we all lose. You, me, him, and the kids.”

“Okay,” he replied, looking down. “You’re the one who knows him best. If telling him is the worst-case scenario, then we’ll have to think up carefully what we’re gonna tell him about us.”

* * *

**PART II: THE GUNSHOT**

Time went by, and the divorce got more complicated. Daario saw the kids two weekends a month and video called them every week. Dany’s lawyer and the support group had advised her to avoid much contact between Daario and the kids to force him to follow his therapy more thoroughly for him to earn to see them frequently.

The audio recordings ended up being her best leverage, as they proved he had tried to take the kids from her. Daario knew that if they went to court, he wouldn’t win. So, they would reach a legal agreement with the terms of the divorce. The following months were filled by emails with the agreement going back and forth, from her and her lawyer to him and her lawyer. One team made changes to the document, then the other one made changes to the document. He wanted to see the kids every weekend and during the week too. She would let him do so, at some point, but not yet.

Daario had no support from other parents after the argument he and Dany had had at the birthday party. When he went to watch Visenya in a football match, other parents gave him the cold shoulder. When they went trick or treating with other kids and their parents, they tried to ignore him, too. He was on his own. Dany had always been the most active in the groups of parents so most of them were on her side. That was how they helped her get a job: she worked part-time at a clothes store at a shopping mall now.

Dany and her lawyer walked into Daario’s lawyer’s office, evidently fancier than her lawyers’. It was on the thirtieth floor of a building in the heart of the financial center. The paintings hung on the walls were clearly worth thousands of dollars and many more people worked there.

They joined Daario and his lawyer at a table. Both their lawyers were women. Dany wondered how could there be women who defended men like him. Maybe she didn’t really know how he was._ ‘Daario?’_ Myrcella had asked her. _‘I can’t believe it. He always looked like such a darling.’ _He charmed everyone he met.

“Coffee?” his lawyer’s assistant asked her.

“No, thank you.” The last thing she wanted was an anxiety-fueler.

She looked at him. A despicable man. She couldn’t believe she had ever been in love with him. When he came over to pick up the kids she dreaded having to get out of the house and see his face and say hi to him. His presence made her feel physically sick, it reminded her of the control, the insults, and even the fear she felt when they lived together, it made her stomach turn and her heartbeat quicken, just like it did now as they sat a meter away from each other and tried to avoid eye contact by looking down at their phones.

A quick heartbeat and a turning stomach: that is also what being in love feels like. When they were dating and she was on her way to meet him, a beating heart and butterflies in her stomach were always present. It was like love and fear, or love and hatred, were different sides of the same coin. She didn’t want to be part of that coin anymore, though. She wanted him to spark no reaction in her. _That _would be the opposite of love: to see him and feel nothing.

Their lawyers did all the talk. The amount of money he would give her every month was calculated from his income and the money that was normally spent on the kids. At least something good came out of the times when he took the credit card from her and made her send him a text with a list of everything she needed to buy for him to hand him that money, she found those messages and they were proof of how much she spent on food for a week. In their conversation, there were also pictures of the receipts of how much she had spent, which also turned in her favor during the negotiations.

Then, his lawyer took out the emails that proved his assistance to therapy.

“But I don’t know for sure yet if he’s changed,” Dany said.

He frowned, but didn’t meet her gaze.

When the meeting was over, she waited for a while inside the office to let him go down in the elevator first, without having to cross paths with him. However, when she came out, Daario was still standing in front of the elevator.

“It’s taking a while,” he said, as if he had read her mind.

Great. They were on the thirtieth floor. They would be together for a while.

In the elevator, he pressed the minus three button to pick up his car from the basement and she pressed the button for the first floor, to walk to the bus stop.

“Right,” he said. “I have to call my assistant.”

Good excuse not to talk, Dany thought.

He took his phone out of his pocket and a text on the blocked screen read: _‘Your place or mine?’_

He quickly unlocked it, but she couldn’t help giggling briefly.

“That means nothing,” he said.

“Sure.”

“Don’t read my texts, by the way.”

“It was right there, I didn’t choose to do so.”

“It’s nothing,” he said again.

“I don’t care if it is or isn’t. You can do anything you want now. Enjoy your freedom.”

“Enjoy my freedom?” He let out a laugh. “I’m anything but free right now. You barely let me see the kids. I’m tired of living like this. I have no say in what happens to them.”

“Don’t whine so much,” she replied. “You can spend time with your kids without the pressure of me telling you to help me out showering them or cleaning after yourself. You can go to the gym in peace and you can play golf, tennis, and surf in peace without me telling you to come home and spend time with us. And you’re free now to date whoever you want. _Enjoy your freedom_.” She said again.

“You think you’ve done me a favor because I have more time for the _fucking gym_?! You have _no _idea what it’s like to an empty house after work every night. You have _no _idea what it’s like to have _no one there for you_. You call this _freedom_?”

The elevator arrived on the first floor. The doors opened and she said, “You’ve lost everything. You are free to remake yourself now to be the way you want to be.”

She walked out and he pressed the button to keep the door open. “I’m almost a forty-year-old man. How can I turn my life around?”

“I’ve grown a lot in the past year, and I’m sure I'll grow more this year. To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever stop growing. If I can, you can. And if you don’t change, you won’t experience real love,” she said softly. “Let that sink in. You’re alone, and the only way to get out of this pit is to change your behavior.”

“I’m already changing.” He begged.

“How can I trust you?” she asked, and walked away.

Months went by, and he kept on trying his best to charm the kids the few times he saw them.

“He’s just manipulating you,” she told his therapists, who met up with her occasionally to keep her updated. “I don’t believe him. I can’t let him see them more often. The people from the support group…they say their exes didn’t change. They were always assholes.”

“That’s not the case with everyone,” one of his therapists said. “We wouldn’t be doing this job if it were that way. The ones that are the hardest to change are the most aggressive partners, the ones who hit their partners regularly, who even tried to murder them.”

“You’re defending him too much, you’re just like everyone else who sees him as he’s better than me.”

“Absolutely not. Remember, we want to help you, not him. If he gets better, we’ll help you. We can show you a letter we asked him to write about why he’s committed to change.”

“I’ve heard that a thousand times. Don’t buy it.”

“Just read it.”

She pursed her lips, and took the paper in her hands, unwillingly, and started reading.

_When Daenerys and I were dating, she asked me what my dream in life was. Hers was to become a known and respected artist. She wanted to make a painting of the sea as wide as Monet’s lilies. I didn’t know what to reply. I honestly had no dream, and I’m sure most people I know don’t have one, either. But I wish I did. I kinda resented her for having one._

_I told her I dreamt of being a dad. It was one of my strongest wishes. I had not been brought up in a perfect home and I wanted to be better to my own kids. But once I became a dad and achieved that goal, there was nothing more to aspire to. I should’ve focused on being a better dad, instead of just being a dad. I wanted a perfect family. I tried to keep her happy in many ways, I tried to avoid conflict, but it always came up I felt like she didn’t let me build the perfect family I wanted and I resented her more. And with my anger, I strayed the three of them away._

_It’s easier to identify my biggest fear: being alone. I can’t take it anymore. I have the life many people dream of, but it’s nothing. I’d rather have a tiny home and live with my kids than be in this house on my own. I overwork. What else can I do? I’d go crazy without work. I don’t know if I could go another year, much less my entire life, seeing Daemon and Visenya every other week. I used to avoid driving them to school, now it would feel like a privilege to spend just thirty more minutes with them. _

_No one around me sees me as a good dad anymore, nor a good husband. They’re not wrong. No good dad tries to take their kids from their mother, nor shout at them in a way that could scar them for life. I can’t live like this, and I can’t keep on ruining them. If I don’t change, the four of us will be miserable for life._

Would she believe this?

“This isn’t it. This doesn’t mean he’s a great dad now,” his therapist said. “But it’s a start. We think he can see the kids now to improve more. If he falls back to his old ways, there will obviously be consequences.”

She grabbed the space between her eyebrows. Visenya’s therapist assured her that she said Daario was treating them well. Better than before. He was definitely doing his best for the kids to beg Dany to spend more time with him—which they did.

In another meeting with their lawyers, his lawyer said, “It’s been a while and it’s time for him to have more time with his kids, as he’s been following his therapy thoroughly. Besides, he shouldn’t be attending an _abuser _program, he didn’t even abuse her.”

Dany wanted to retort, but her lawyer, who had advised her not to talk much, quickly said, “He did.”

“What’s your evidence?” his lawyer said.

“We have text messages of him asking her to send him the receipts of how much money she spent every time she went shopping or even put gas in the car to control every penny that she spent to tie her to him.”

“That’s a way to keep a budget,” his lawyer said.

“That’s called financial abuse.”

“It’s his money.”

Daario only looked down at his hands. Dany was frowning, looking at his lawyer right in the eyes, but she wouldn’t look at her back.

Her lawyer said, “We also have text messages of him telling her not to sell her paintings because it makes them look like they’re broke.”

“That’s not abuse.”

“That’s _also_ a control mechanism for her to be dependent on him.”

“This is not a case for abuse,” Daario said.

His lawyer tried to cut him off, but Dany said, “I agree.”

Her lawyer turned to look at her in disbelief.

They called for a five-minute break.

“What is wrong with you? Stay silent,” her lawyer told her.

“If we make this about the abuse, we could end up in court, right? I want to get over with this as soon as possible. If he’s charged as an abuser or not, I don’t care. As long as I can live with my kids and he can’t, I can live with the final choice. At least he’s following the therapy he’s supposed to follow.”

“The more time he spends with them, the more ideas he can get into your kids’ heads about you and he can turn them against you.”

“That’s a risk. But I’d rather be the best mother in the world and show them with my acts that I’m not who he could say I am. Also, they love me more. They won’t turn their back to me for him.” Dany sighed. “But they love him too. If I keep on depriving them from seeing each other, things will be harder. Let’s give him a bit of what he wants so he can stop whining. I need peace in my life.”

So, he told him and his lawyer, “I’ll let him see them every weekend, and I’m willing to let him see them twice a week for a couple of hours with one condition. My job makes it hard for me to cook every day. You can have lunch together a couple of times a week, wherever you want.”

“You know better what foods are good for them,” Daario said. The three women looked at him with a frown. It was the same argument he gave her when he found out she bought food, back when they were together. He might be sorry for hurting his family, but there was a long road between regret and change. “Twice a week,” he went on. “I guess I can pick them up from school and they can come over to the office and eat with me.”

Weeks went by. He had therapy sessions with the kids in which they had to tell him the ways they had felt hurt by him before, and he couldn’t retort. He could only listen and then, apologize. Dany was supposed to have a similar session with him, but she didn’t want to see him. Sometimes it felt pointless to even tell him the ways in which he had hurt her, she never wanted to be close to him again anyway, so why bother? But to change, he needed to know the ways in which he hurt others.

She didn’t want to be in the same room as him, so she wrote him an email, trying to stay objective in her complaints. He read it in therapy.

“Don’t bother sending a letter back because I won’t read it, anyway,” she texted him.

But he still apologized for hurting her. Did he really mean it? Did he really regret having hurt her? Did he really understand how he had hurt her? Those questions followed her for weeks, but after her kids got home happy after a day at the zoo with him, she realized those answers weren’t too necessary. She just wanted her kids to be happy and emotionally healthy. She also wanted to let him go. If she asked Daario those questions personally, she would never even trust his answers.

Getting up, making breakfast, going to Jon’s place, going to work, having lunch with the kids, helping them out with their homework, cooking for dinner and for the following day, painting, and going to sleep. Thankfully her mother could help her out, watching the kids so that Dany could paint. All that while trying to maintain a healthy relationship with Jon, an unaggressive divorce with Daario, and talking to her kids about why they could not go back to their previous house, and why dad couldn’t come over more often.

The kids actually enjoyed spending those hours a week with their dad. He took Visenya to a football practice and cheered for her on the bleachers. He took them to the beach club and actually spent time with them, instead of stopping to say hi to is acquaintances. He even took them sailing, so just the three of them could be alone together, watching the dolphins and sea-lions from afar. The kids told Dany all this when they came back home.

“We should go watch a 4D movie,” Daario told Daemon and Visenya through FaceTime. They were lying in bed together while Dany folded their clothes on the bed at their feet.

“With mummy too. She would love it,” Daemon said. Daario stayed silent. “Can’t you and mummy just get along?” Daemon asked him.

“We do get along,” he said, as if it were obvious.

Dany looked at Daemon and smiled at him in reassurance.

When their call was over, she asked them to help her out folding their clothes. They complained but did so anyway. Sometimes she felt jealous of how, when they were with her, they couldn’t do all those fun activities—their life was limited to homework, eating, showering. Sometimes she felt like talking ill about Daario with them, just so they could love him less and love her more. But she couldn’t. She had fought so hard for her kids not to suffer, that when they came back home with a smile on their faces, she couldn’t take that away from them. Was Daario doing all these fun things to manipulate them? To win them over? To make them beg to spend more time with him? Maybe. Maybe not. But why did it matter, anyway? Whatever his motivation was, their relationship was already changing.

* * *

Getting divorced implied thinking about one’s ex-partner _every_ day. How many days should he spend with them? What will they do when they’re together? How will he treat them? Fortunately, Daemon, Visenya, Rhaella, and Jon made her life better, and they helped her focus not only in her pain, but in a brighter future, one where Daario wasn’t tormenting her, especially not in his absence.

There were days when she didn’t have the time to see Jon. And now that Jon was a chef, he went to work earlier or spent more time in fish terminals and markets than before. Sometimes they could just have breakfast together. Sometimes they could cuddle for some minutes. When they were lucky, they could make love. But even if they couldn’t, being with Jon was like magic. He could shift her mood completely, and she could listen to him talk endlessly about things she didn’t even care about, like what he had bought in the fish terminal, and it still lifted her mood. But she also lifted _his _mood, and that was even more satisfying.

Their time was usually limited to talk about parenting and its challenges. They made a budget too. Those moments were embarrassing, because Dany wanted to split equally the rent and other expenses, but knew she would most likely keep on earning less than Jon. She probably wouldn’t be able to afford a car of her own, either, but Jon assured her they could take turns using his car. It also embarrassed her.

The good thing about having an income was that she could arrive at his place with his favorite ice cream, his favorite coffee, his favorite panini, or his favorite hotcakes with berries. He woke up with a smile. What could cheer him up more than good food and his girlfriend?

Her life, more hectic than ever now, sped up every day, week, and month, and just like that, eight months had gone by since her divorce started, and only her and Daario’s signatures were pending. They sat across each other in that long, wooden table in that chilly room on the thirtieth floor. She signed it first, and signed it quickly. Daario stared at her hands. No manicure like always back then. Her hair was braided on her back. She wore a nice coat, but beneath it, she looked nothing like what he had been used to see.

He was nothing like what she had been used to see, either: he had baggy eyes, sunken cheeks, and his shirt covered his torso lousily, when it used to fit so well that his toned muscles couldn’t hide. She had never seen him this skinny.

She pushed the paper to him. He stared at it, took it in his hands, skimmed through the pages of their agreement, again and again. He had obviously read it hundreds of times already. His trembling fingers evidenced his doubt.

‘Just sign!’ she wanted to say, but a strange feeling of compassion came over her, and she was somehow patient, understanding the pain that it meant for him to inexorably lose his—legal—wife.

His pen slid across the page as quickly as a gunshot being fired. It was the shot that finally put an end to their living-dead marriage, but it was also a shot that signaled the start of a race. From now on, both of them would run on their own track. Would they be competing for the kids’ love? She hoped not. She hoped each of them could stay on their own track, running for their own growth.

She waited for him to go down in the elevator on his own as she looked out the window from the thirtieth floor, watching the city. She could see much more of the sea from here than she ever could. She saw the number of people, as tiny as ants, walking in crowds down the avenues, crossing the streets. She was sure there were some divorced people among them, some cheaters, some people who had coped with the death of a loved one, some people who were battling an illness. And all their lives went on.

When she woke up that morning, she thought that after signing the papers, she would rush to Jon’s arms in joy. But instead, she only sent him a text letting him know everything went okay, and went home to paint after snapping a picture of the view.

The view from the divorce office. Turning a bad memory into a beautiful work of art could be a display of resilience.

_Self-portrait with Cropped Hair by Frida Kahlo. _

_Note on why I used this painting: She painted it after divorcing her husband, Diego Rivera (you can find a painting of his in CH3) who was a pretty bad husband too. He liked it when she dressed in a feminine way (with dresses and all that) and liked her long hair, so in this painting we can see her in the opposite way of how her ex-husband liked her (dressed in a masculine way and with her hair cut off). That's it, keep on enjoying the fic. <3 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People change when they have to change, not just when they want to change. So Dany has been trying to not let Daario see his kids to put him between a rock and a hard place so that he’ll be forced to follow his therapy carefully to change to see them again. But it’s difficult, considering that he’s been playing the victim in front of the kids for them to want to see him too. I guess this has been obvious in the past 3 or 4 chapters but I don’t want Daario to end this story as the same person that he was in chapter 1. I don’t want that for any of the characters. This obviously won’t be a Zuko kind of redemption. I’m not planning to make him an angel, there’s a lot of shit in him that is extremely difficult to heal, and it takes years to get to an ‘alright human being’ point. I'm planning to make him regret the awful behavior he has had for years and realize that life is worthless without social connection.  
I know some people want Dany to ruin his life but I’m not telling a story about hatred nor revenge. I don’t believe people have fixed characters, either, because it’s scientifically false. And if that were the case, therapists wouldn’t exist. (And if that were the case, storylines like Zuko's would make no sense)
> 
> Now, I think that this kind of blackmail of “change or I’ll leak the voice note” could force him to change to see the kids again BUT it could also create more hatred from Daario to Dany. So yeah I’m struggling with how to handle this situation.
> 
> JONERYS' RELATIONSHIP BECOMES PUBLIC AND MEGA OFFICIAL NEXT CHAP SO GO FOR IT!!!!!


	15. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The living are soft and yielding; the dead are rigid and stiff. Living plants are flexible and tender; the dead are brittle and dry.” —Lao Tze 
> 
> From now on, Jon’s POV will be present every chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Self-harm
> 
> Reminder: in chapter 4 I mentioned that Jon's depression had been awful in his 20s, and Dany had been there for him unconditionally.

_Sunrise and The Sea by Claude Monet_

* * *

Wait. I’m starting off with a message:

It took me a while to update.

I never share much about myself here but I wanted to say that I’ve had for a while some health issues that have taken a lot of my time, energy and worry: a lot of therapy, appointments with the doctor, and my day to day is full of stuff that I gotta do to take care of myself to ease the pain. I have multiple health issues but the main one right now is about my back.

The pandemic has made my recovery more difficult for me, not only I can’t go to therapy as often, there are no gyms, no swimming pools, nowhere to work out. I’m in more pain than usual and I have to try to strengthen my body in different ways at home, which sadly aren’t as effective. To top it off, we’ve been dealing with the coronavirus in my house. I’m trying to go on with the fic, because it’s an activity that I absolutely love to do, but real life keeps on calling me.

I don’t want you to pity me or anything, I just want you guys to understand that writers most likely have a lot going on in their lives besides their fanfics. We have jobs, we have families and friends, and some of us have on top of that other things that we have to tend to. If you’re not a writer, maybe you can’t fathom how much time this takes. It requires us to be alone, uninterrupted, for many hours a week.

I’m not trying to say Estranged is a burden for me. Regularly practicing your skills makes you emotionally and mentally stronger. Writing also requires discipline (a lot). So I see it as something that adds value to my life and that helps me not only handle pain, but grow. So I’ll gladly keep on writing, but the number of straight hours that I can be sitting down, uninterrupted, and going with the flow, is becoming more complicated.

The end of the fic is near, there will be two more chapters (besides these two I’m posting now), maybe three if I split the last one which is really long, but I want to post together all the final chapters because they are so connected to each other that I want you guys to read them all in one sitting. I’ve written a lot of it already but I still don’t know when I’ll be able to update. I hope you understand. Honestly, I’d love it if you stayed with me until the end because all your opinions are important to me.

Don’t feel guilty if you’ve written comments asking me to hurry up with the next chapter, those comments are really flattering because they show me that people still think about this fic after I post the chapters.

I have some comments pending on my inbox that I haven’t even been able to reply to yet, and I beg for your patience. I’ve barely been on AO3 for the past month.

Finally, I don’t wanna get political, but please wear a mask and keep your distance. You don’t know what this is like until you’ve lived it in your own house.

I wish you all peace in these crazy times.

Now go on, enjoy these two chapters!

* * *

Slowly, Jon’s eyes opened. One, two, three blinks and he could finally see clearly: a white roof and an IV bag hanging on a metal pole. He looked down at his body. The white bandage that surrounded his wrists was slightly pink. That memory always reincarnated in his dreams, no matter how much time had passed.

He looked to his side, Dany was sitting on a chair. She noticed he woke up and quickly got up to stand next to him.

He pushed the word "hey" out of his mouth.

“Hey.” She tried to smile as she held his hand, but her red and swollen eyes were anything but happy. “How are you feeling?”

“A little dizzy,” he said.

He slowly started to remember more: the numbness, the bathroom, the blade, the drops of blood falling to the ground. One, two, three, four…

“I’m sorry,” he went on. “It got out of hand.”

She nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek. Her hand warmed his in the midst of such a chilly room. He tried to press it back, but if he moved his fingers too quickly, it hurt his wrist.

When they went back to their flat, he felt guilty every minute of the rest of the day. She had cleaned the blood from the floor. She had taken him to the hospital. She loved him despite everything. What did he give back to her?

He was advised to lie down for the day, and she lay in bed with him, hugging him across his stomach. The curtains were open and the sun was coming in, but it couldn’t change how dead and colorless their bedroom looked. Even Dany’s paintings, as colorful as they were, could not change how achromatic his environment looked. No matter if it was in their bedroom, at the park, or at the beach. Time went by and he just watched it go. Not caring about wasting it. There seemed no way to “make the most of it”. He didn’t even want to cook, because not even the best spices had any taste. What if he didn’t drop out of engineering? What was the point of studying gastronomy anyway? What was even the point of getting up in the morning?

He placed an arm around her, his wrists still bandaged. He exhaled loudly.

“I don’t know what else to do,” she said.

“Nothing about this is about you,” he said quietly, even talking tired him. “You are the only ray of light in my life. This isn’t because of you. This is _despite_ you. I feel like shit all the time. You could give me the best news of my life and I still won’t feel better.”

“Then make an effort to be better. Follow your therapy, take your meds, do exercise. How can you change if you don’t do anything about it?”

“I don’t feel like doing anything about anything,” he replied. “I just want to stay here with you. I love you way too much.”

Yes, he loved her madly, and she was the only source of light in his life. He didn’t want her to forget how much he loved her, nor he wanted her to feel guilty about his depression, but in the back of his mind, he also constantly reassured his love to her to keep her to him. He always thought that if he lost her, he’d be done.

He pushed his eyelids open.

Finally, the present.

The curtains were closed and the room was dark, quiet, peaceful. Dany hugged his torso with her head on his chest, emanating warmth to his body. She had sneaked into his bed early and, as usual, he fell asleep again after greeting her. She was probably asleep too. He closed his eyes again, and it felt like just a second later his alarm went off. He turned it off and turned on his night lamp.

She groaned and ran a hand up his bare ribcage, stopping at his chest. He held it in the air and kissed her fingertips, then bit them softly. She lifted her face and her lip corners fell down in sadness.

He loved it when she came over in the mornings and they snoozed together before starting his day. It seemed silly, but for a couple of seconds, it felt like they had actually slept together and were a couple starting together a regular working day.

He shaved his beard. Having a blade close to his neck didn’t make him uneasy anymore. He opened the drawer in his nightstand and took out his pills. He swallowed one and started his day. And the day of a chef was a long day.

He always looked forward to the end of the day, when he got home quickly—as there was never traffic at that time—, got into a warm shower, sat cross-legged on his yoga mat to meditate—he had to cultivate his patience if he would be a stepfather to two kids—and, at midnight, got a phone call or a video call from Dany. She now slept alone and could close her door and quietly talk to him. He loved it. It was the closest thing to falling asleep together.

“So,” he was saying to her that night on a phone call, “he’s gonna ask us when and how did we meet.”

“We gotta say the truth, obviously,” she spoke in a low voice wearing earphones. “Not only that you’re my ex, but also that we met again at the supermarket. The kids were there and they could tell him that.”

Jon sighed. “Even though I’m scared shitless of meeting him, I can’t wait to finally be able to hang out with you at your place, with your family, and cut this sneaking around.”

“It’s just a bump that we have to go through.”

When he reached his thirties, dating changed for him. He always had to quickly look at women's fingers before talking to them to see if they had a ring. He also knew that being a stepdad was highly likely, which meant that it was highly likely that he would have to deal with an ex in the picture. What he had never anticipated, though, was how nerve-wracking it could be.

“You did it,” she said. “You waited for me.” Jon smiled. “And I love you so much more for that. But it still makes me feel like you do too much for me and I do too little for you.”

“No,” Jon said. “Not again with that stuff.”

“I don’t know what else to do. I want to be the best girlfriend in the world, but we can’t see each other that often now. I want to at least get you presents, but I don’t have money.”

“You’re already an amazing girlfriend. And you don’t have to buy me anything, please. You do a lot for me, you always help me grow, teach me stuff, call me out if something’s wrong with me. I’m better for having you in my life. If it makes you feel any better, our relationship in our twenties was unbalanced too. I was a mess, you were incredibly functional, and you took care of me more like a mother or a therapist than a girlfriend. You did so much for me and I wanted to do more for you, but my depressed brain didn’t let me be the boyfriend I wish I’d been.”

“You were a great boyfriend.”

“I was a mess.”

“You were not—”

“The insomnia, the fatigue, the self-loathe, the headaches, that time I passed out and you found me on the bathroom floor with my wrists—” he shut his eyes. “I still have nightmares about it, and I still wonder how I didn’t kill myself, or how you didn’t break up with me.”

“I love you. I knew you before all that started and I knew that wasn’t you. That was your brain acting up.”

“I know, but I couldn’t give back to you all that love, equally, and it made me feel like shit.”

“I didn’t expect it to be an equal exchange of love all the time. You needed me back then, and other times I needed you. That’s what a relationship is, after all.”

He nodded. “You said it.”

“But—” she said, and stayed silent.

“Once we live together, our relationship can be more balanced. But remember, the scale will forever shift from one side to another. I’m not here to make you feel guiltier. That’s not the point of my love for you.”

After a moment of silence, she said, “I admire you a lot, you know.”

“I admire you too.”

“Do you admire yourself?”

“For learning to handle depression?” He chuckled. “A lot of people do that.”

“But a lot of people don’t.”

He exhaled deeply. “I often wanna go back in time… or I want my twenty-one-year-old self to travel to the future and see me now. Not only because I have you by my side, but even before, just two years ago, with no girlfriend, no family... and life was good. Sure, I have my bad days, and I always will, but back then, I used to think I’d never again have a will to live.” It was true, but now that he said it out loud, it felt even more true. “Do _you_ admire yourself?”

“Hmm… I guess so, yeah.”

“A divorce must be one of the most painful moments of a person’s life. You’re done with it, and you’re stronger than you’d been before. I hope in the future you can come back to this time in your life and remember how you were able to handle what you used to think you couldn’t.”

She hummed. “What a darling, you are.”

They talked a little more, until it got late and they hung up, and he was only surrounded by darkness, silence, and loneliness. Yes, there was more to his life than just his girlfriend, but he couldn’t ignore how she was in a house with three other people right now, while he was still on his own, years later.

‘I don’t need her,’ he told himself when he felt alone. ‘I’ve been able to live a good life without her, I don’t need her,’ but how he turned on the sheets in the middle of the night hoping he’d bump into her body and hug her and kiss her and make love to her. Every night, he looked forward to the following morning.

But he felt like he was being pulled from two sides. He wanted to leave this flat and live with her _now_. He wanted to meet the kids _now _and move in soon and leave this life behind. But he also wanted to be careful about it: he loved her, but what if Daario didn’t leave them alone? What if things didn’t work out with her kids? He had to take his time to know the kids well, maybe they wouldn’t like him or…what if _he_ didn’t like them? Would he and Dany still be together but not live together? Would he suck it up and stand a messy family for her? He had given her a lot of time to get a divorce, but now, he needed some time as well to know her family. Making such a choice abruptly without getting to know the family well seemed like an irresponsible choice, for himself and for them.

He turned on his TV for it to fill the silence. The next morning, she would be by his side, which helped him pretend, at least for some seconds, that they were already living together.

* * *

Friday night. Quarter past eight. One year after that Saturday when Dany had broken up with Daario. It was time. Jon and Dany sat next to each other at a restaurant, watching an empty chair at the other side of the table. Their three dishes were already there, and the food was getting cold. He had asked for a shift off for this. He took a sip from his glass of water and swallowed loudly. She placed her hand over his, softly, and said, “Everything will be okay. We’ve practiced enough.”

Daario walked into the restaurant in a suit and tie. He was taller than him, fancier than him, more handsome than him, but _much _skinnier than him too.

“Sorry, overworking,” he said, barely looking at them.

He extended his hand to shake Jon’s. “Daario.”

“Jon,” Jon replied. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet _you,_” he said in a sarcastic tone. Jon shifted in his seat. “Thank you for waiting for me to start. Let’s eat.”

They started eating silently. Jon wondered what could he say. _‘How are you? How was your day? How’s work?’ _He wished Dany could say something, after all, she was the one who knew both of them, but he guessed she didn’t want to talk to Daario, either.

So, it was Daario who beat the silence, extending his hands on his sides. “So, this is sort of an interview right? I have to interview the guy who will spend more time with my kids than I will?”

“We’re just dating, Daario,” Dany said. “He’ll come over for dinner every once in a while and that’s it. No P.D.A. in front of the kids or anything.”

“For now,” Daario said. “Don’t you have more plans for the long run? Moving in together, maybe?

“_Whoah_,” Jon said, “kinda rushing there, mate.”

“Come on,” Daario said, looking at Dany, “at this age how many parents date around without looking for a long-term relationship?”

Dany took out her phone and texted something to Daario. She looked at him and pointed at her phone. He got the hint, read the message, and turned off the screen. Jon ate his food, pretending he wasn’t looking.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Daario asked him.

“I’m a chef.”

“Cool. Where?”

“Blue Fish.”

Daario lifted his eyebrows. “Nice.”

“You… work in a bank, right?” Jon asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Finance Manager.”

“Cool,” Jon said too.

“Do you have kids?” Daario asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Um…” Jon chuckled awkwardly. “My previous girlfriends were not ready for it yet_.”_

“So you’re not a dad, but do you like kids?”

“Yeah, I come from a big family with a lot of kids.”

Daario nodded and they all silently kept on eating their food.

“So, let’s cut to the chase,” he said, “how did you two meet?”

_That _was the chase for him? Not Jon’s personality? To see who would hang out with his kids?

“He’s my ex,” Dany said. Daario let go of his cutlery, which fell loudly on the plate. Jon jerked. Dany went on as if nothing had happened. “_Was_ my ex. Now he's my boyfriend again. I've told you about him.”

“The northern boyfriend,” Daario said and looked at Jon’s face with more attention than he had done so so far.

Jon tried to smile. “Spot on.”

Daario looked at Dany with a frown. “And how,” he cleared his throat, “did this happen?”

“Well, we ran into each other one time at the supermarket! It was so funny,” Dany said. Daario was still frowning. “Then, after you and I broke up, I started hanging out more with friends whom I hadn’t seen in a while—from art school, from White Harbor, who are now living here,” that last bit was a lie, none of her friends from White Harbor were here, “and guess who I saw among that group!”

Jon chuckled. “Such a coincidence.”

“You ran into each other at the supermarket?”

“Yeah,” Dany said. “The kids were there too.”

Daario shrunk his eyes and looked at Jon. “Sounds to me like the moment you found out she was available, you rushed to King’s Landing.”

That wasn’t a bad theory, Jon thought, at least he thought she and Jon started seeing each other _after_ she broke up with him.

“No, mate,” Jon said casually, “I came here five years ago, I had a job offer here. I had a girlfriend too, I lived with her. It had been a long time after Dany and I broke up. She wasn’t on my watch.”

“She wasn’t on your watch. But once we broke up, you two started dating.”

“Yeah,” Jon said.

“When she was single?” Daario said.

“Yeah,” Dany and Jon replied.

He sat back to think. “You sure?”

“What are you implying?” Dany frowned.

“Our last year together we,” he whispered, “_barely had sex.”_

Jon shifted in his seat again.

“If I didn’t have sex with you it was because you were an ass—” she stopped, “because I didn’t like how you treated me.” He shrunk his eyes. “If there’s anyone who should be suspicious of cheating it’s me. If I remember correctly, not long after we broke up you were already texting other women to hook up with them.”

“Stop,” he said. “I didn’t cheat on you. That was afterwards.”

“I believe you,” she said, “because I know that the pain of a breakup makes you seek company wherever you can find it.”

Jon stayed silent, drinking his lemonade.

“You can’t blame me for being suspicious, not much time has passed.”

“It’s been a year since I broke up with you,” Dany said. “The time it took me to move on after him, too. When you and I started dating, you insisted that a year was alright to let my ex go.”

_Wanker_, Jon wanted to say, but he had been dating his wife while they were married, so he’d rather keep his thoughts to himself.

Daario exhaled loudly. “Feels like that was in another life.”

“I’ve moved on,” she said. “And you also should.”

“I’ve moved on too. I’m not begging you to come back to me or anything.” He let out a cocky laugh.

“Then suck it up and accept the fact that I have a new boyfriend, instead of trying to incriminate an infidelity here to try to switch the blame to _me_.”

Jon pursed his lips and took a sip of his lemonade. He hated this. His stomach turned every time another lie was said at this table, and they would have to do it forever.

Daario cleared his throat. “Well, even if that’s the case, I don’t think it would be too crazy of me to imply that you two want to stay together for many years, would it?” Jon and Dany stayed silent. “Come on, you’ve been together for how long? When you were in White Harbor?”

Dany exhaled loudly. “Wow. I don’t even remember, such a long time ago.”

“Yeah, a couple, a bunch of years,” lied Jon. Five years. How could he forget?

“You lived together, didn’t you?” Daario asked.

“Ye-yeah.”

“Then you wanna get back to that, I’m not stupid.”

“Daario, we’re just testing the waters here,” Dany said. “We’re dating again but we’re still seeing how this works out, me as a mum, you know… it’s all completely different than how it was back then.”

“It is,” Daario nodded.

“And I can date whoever I want.”

“But _I _should have a say on which adults spend time with my kids. Especially if one day he wants to be a stepdad.”

“_Whoaaah_,” Jon said in a high pitched laugh. “You’re rushing, mate.”

_“Daario,”_ Dany exhaled. They were both terrible actors.

“Come on, you do not date a parent without discussing the possibility of being a stepparent,” he said, looking at Jon.

But before he could reply, Dany said, “You seem to know a lot about dating while being a parent.”

“I thought you didn’t mind.”

“I don’t. I mind that _you_ mind.”

“Well, I _mind _if someone takes my place, of course I do.”

“He won’t take your place, he’ll just spend time with us at home as my boyfriend.”

“That’s still more time than what _I _spend with them.”

_But it was you who ruined your relationship with them,_ Jon wanted to say.

“Don’t envy him,” she said.

“I don’t _envy_ him,” Daario frowned, looking at Jon up and down.

Jon looked down at his dish. It was getting empty. Once he was done, he didn’t know what he would be able to do to avoid eye contact or talking.

“Yes, you do," Dany went on. "And you know what? There are two kinds of envy. In the first one, you want what the other wants. The second one, though, is much worse. You can’t have what you want, so you wish the other didn’t have it either.”

“You think _I _want _you_?” Daario smiled.

She whispered, “Then don’t be a dick and let someone else love me.”

“Do you want some time on your own?” Jon asked, his leg was bouncing up and down.

“No,” both said.

Dany went on, “It takes much more time and effort to be shitty to one another, to be bitter, to think about winning over the other. You wanna spend an entire life in an endless argument? We’ve argued enough during our marriage. This is a choice. Things don’t have to be ugly between us. Otherwise, we’ll keep on hurting the kids. You think I enjoy being here, introducing my boyfriend and my ex-husband to each other? I wish I didn’t have to do so. But let’s be civil about this, just like I’ll be civil about the next girlfriends you have.”

“I love my kids,” Daario said. “You can’t blame me for being careful.”

“It’s okay to be careful. But if you love your kids, you’ll want their mother to be happy. I’m not asking for your permission to date him, by the way, we're here just for you guys to meet.”

There was finally a pause, so Jon plucked up the courage to say something. “Um, you don’t have to worry, Daario. I won’t try to replace you. I’ll be nice to them but I’ll make sure they know I’m not a new dad.” That was the truth.

“Of course you’re not,” Daario said. “They’re mine. You say that now, but I don’t know if you’ll think the same way once you become a stepdad.”

“Well, we haven’t talked about that yet,” he lied, and quickly glanced at Dany, “but let’s say that in the far future I become their stepdad… I still wouldn't try to replace you, and I wouldn't keep you from seeing them or anything.”

Daario sighed and sat back against the chair.

“I have my hands tied here, guys. If I do something she doesn’t agree with,” he said, looking at Jon, “she’ll make up excuses not to let me see the kids. I can’t forbid you two to see each other.” He shook his head. “Am I kind of jealous that my kids will probably spend more time with another guy than with me? Yeah, sort of. But what can I do? Take them from you? I’d ruin their lives. I know they love you more than they love me,” he told Dany.

“That’s not true,” she said in a sad voice.

“It is. I’m not blind.”

Daario finished his food in silence. Jon took the last sip of his lemonade, kind of waiting for someone to say something again, but at the same time, hoping that no one talked again. Every time they spoke, they argued.

So, he said, “How was your lasagna, Daario?”

“It was good,” Daario replied. Silence again. After a while, he asked Jon, “Do you cook pasta too?”

“It’s not my area of expertise, but I can cook it. Lasagna’s sort of easy to make, though.”

“I’ve been trying to learn how to cook,” he said, glancing at Dany before drinking from his glass.

“I don’t believe you,” she said with a chuckle.

“I’m all alone and I gotta survive.”

“Well, no wonder why you’re so skinny,” she joked.

He was depressed. Jon knew it. He himself had lost a crazy amount of weight in his early twenties.

Daario nodded. “I buy food most days, but I don’t necessarily get a balanced diet that way.”

“Any tips you can give him?” Dany asked Jon with a smile.

Jon looked up in thought. He didn’t want to help Daario in any way, but he wanted him to, at least, not hate him. “Just practice. All you can. No matter if you screw up… do it again, and eventually, it will be almost automatic.”

“Jon is so talented,” Dany said. “I’m sure he’ll make Daemon eat if he cooks for him.”

“That would be a miracle,” Daario said, and giggled.

“You’re missing out on Blue Fish,” Dany told Daario.

Jon forced a smile. He hoped Daario never stepped a foot in his workplace.

“I guess I am,” he replied, and the conversation died again. “Should we ask for the check now?”

Dany asked the waiter for separate checks. Even when Jon tried to pay for her meals, she refused. She said she liked the feeling of paying for her own things. He guessed she felt that way right now too, as she paid for herself in front of Daario.

As they walked out of the restaurant, Dany said, “Isn’t the weather _crazy_? It’s been such a hot day. I love how there’s still light, even though it’s almost nine p.m..”

“Actually that’s bad for the economy,” Daario said. “Plenty of fish die.”

“Plenty of fish die, yes.” Jon agreed. “The warmer the water, the less able it is to hold oxygen.” Daario looked at him. “I cook seafood,” Jon said.

“Well, I was just stating how nice it is for it to be warm but you two have to be such buzzkills,” Dany chuckled.

“Seems like you have a thing for buzzkills,” Jon said.

The three of them laughed awkwardly as they waited for the valet to bring their cars.

“Let me be clear,” Daario said. “No matter what happens between you two, I’m the father.”

“Yes, absolutely,” Jon said.

“I promise I won’t say otherwise,” Dany said.

The valet brought back Daario’s expensive car and Jon’s regular car. Jon felt jealous for a second, but when Dany got into the car with him, it went away. He guessed Daario was even more jealous. He rejoiced at that thought.

“He’s grown in a year,” she said as he drove her home.

“He’s grown?! He’s such an asshole.”

“Yeah, but I’m impressed, things went better than I expected. I’m sure that without therapy he would’ve made a scene.”

Jon sighed. “Oh god, I almost shat in my pants. He almost caught us.”

“I know,” she said. “We must remember what we said, we gotta stick to that story forever.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with this. Lying to him like that.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“I know he’s an asshole, but that doesn’t make this okay.”

She turned to look at him. “I want you to listen to me carefully. Don’t you _dare_ say anything about our affair to him or to my kids. You’ll ruin my relationship with Daemon and Visenya. And that’s the worst thing you could do to me. Do you understand?”

“I know… but it will be awful to lie for the rest of our lives—”

“You’ve waited so long for this! You’ve got what you want, you’d throw it all away if you want to stick to honesty. But this isn’t just about you, so it’s not your call to make. The most affected one would be me. So remember the story we told and stick to it till we’re in our deathbeds,” she said in a commanding tone.

He didn't reply to her and kept looking at the road, even slightly embarrassed.

At a stoplight, she leaned towards him to kiss on his cheek and said, “Don’t make things harder for yourself. Can’t you be happy about this? My ex knows about us, it’s all good, you can finally hang out with me and the kids.”

Reality was good. He guessed it was him who was thrusting this conflict upon himself.

They drove by a park and heard music coming from it. A crowd gathered there under glistening lightbulbs that hung on the treetops.

"Should we check that out?" she asked with a grin. He couldn't ruin that smile, so he parked the car and followed her by the hand.

A band was playing jazz at the center of the park. There were food trucks on the sides, tables where people sat to eat, and in the middle, people—mostly middle-aged and old people—danced to the music. Dany pulled Jon to the center of the crowd.

“No, please,” he laughed, but followed her anyway. “You sure you have time?”

“My mum already put the kids to bed. Come on.”

He was a terrible dancer, but he couldn’t say no when she pressed her body against his, held his hand in the air next to their faces and placed her free hand on his shoulder. He gave in and held her hip, enjoying the first time he and Dany danced together in a decade. Their feet moved clumsily, trying to follow the rhythm of the music.

He lifted their hands and she turned around swiftly. She was wearing a flowered skirt, as the weather was nice, and it danced in the wind along with her as she turned. She went back into his arms, placing a kiss on his cheek and laughing.

“What's so funny?” he asked, holding her hip again.

“Nothing. I’m just happy to be with you all in public.”

She slid her hand to the nape of his neck and pressed a kiss on his lips.

With his mouth against her ear, he said, “I’m dying to grab your ass.” He scratched her hip softly. “It’s just inches away from my hand.”

She chuckled and looked around. “Why don’t you do it?”

He giggled. “No.”

“We’re surrounded by other people, no one’s paying attention to us. You can grab it once.”

He looked around as they kept on dancing and quickly groped her buttock and placed his hand back on her hip.

She laughed out loud. “Hope you enjoyed it.”

“I enjoyed every millisecond of that second.”

She quickly grabbed his buttock too, but it was more like a pinch that made him jerk in pain.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed.

“Sorry,” she said laughing, and kissed his lips.

“I’m gonna wake up with a bruise back there tomorrow.”

He drove her back home, and before getting out of the car, she said, “So. Monday afternoon. After your first shift. At the park. I’ll take the kids.”

“Can’t wait,” he smiled.

“Do you wanna meet my mum, too? You could come over tomorrow night.”

“I’ll be there. Does she still remember me?”

“Of course. No mother forgets a boyfriend who can cook.”

She kissed him and left the car. He watched her open the door of the house and before going in, she waved at him. He waved back with a smile. Even though he loved to be with her indoors, being outdoors together brought along freedom, a feeling of being a regular couple, just like any other.

_Happy Night by Leonid Afremov / Slow Dance by Ron Hicks_

* * *

He made a carrot cake during his afternoon break at work and took it to Dany and Rhaella’s place.

“You look just like I remember you,” Jon told Rhaella when he saw her, “you haven’t changed a bit.”

Rhaella chuckled. “You have changed a bit, but not much.”

Dany greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “How was work?”

“Busy, what about you?”

“It was _so_ fun,” she smiled. Dany had gotten a job on Saturdays teaching a landscape painting workshop at an art institute for non-painters. “We went to the pier to paint.”

They split the cake and sat in the living room to eat.

“Delicious,” Rhaella said. “Good thing you’re not an engineer.”

“Well, if your daughter hadn’t insisted I should drop out,” he held Dany’s hand next to him, “I’d be building bridges or something like that right now.”

They talked about what they had been up to this past decade until it got late and Dany told Rhaella, “Mum, can he stay over?”

Rhaella laughed. “At your age I cannot tell you whom you can or cannot sleep with.”

Jon hugged her tightly in bed. Dany kissed his forehead and he kissed her jaw. She turned off her night lamp.

He asked her, “You think we can do something else tonight? Very quietly?”

“Her bedroom is right next to mine, I’d be so embarrassed if she listens to us. I don’t have a TV here to turn on and make some noise like we used to do when we hid from the kids.”

“I won’t moan. Promise.”

She laughed. “Still, this is a weak bed frame that will bump against the wall. Next weekend I’ll stay over at your place.”

“Then, can I…” he placed his head on her chest and slid his hand under her t-shirt, making its way to hold her breast. There was nothing he loved the most than falling asleep holding it.

She chuckled. “You can.”

She scratched his head softly in the dark.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Night,” she replied.

He couldn’t help leaving tiny, silent kisses on her neck. She giggled, scratching the nape of his neck softly.

“Give me a goodnight kiss, too. On my mouth,” she said quietly.

He lifted his head. “I can't see you.”

He pressed down a kiss that ended up landing on her nose, she lifted her head and their lips met. He left a tiny, quiet kiss on her mouth, then another one, and another one. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and licked her lips lightly. She opened her mouth and he licked her tongue from side to side, making her giggle. She closed her lips around his lower lip, and he moved his thumb in circles around her nipple, slowly, waiting to see if she would say no. But instead, she sat up and took the pillows from their heads and put them between the bed frame and the wall.

“You know what?” she said. “You have to practice quiet sex for when you live with us.” He giggled as he lay on his back and she lay on top of him. He opened his legs and she sank her hips against his. “Just to practice,” she said again. “Just for you to get used to it.”

They made out silently. He ran his hand down her back and rubbed her buttocks in circles. She thrust her hips against his and he moaned.

“Shhh,” she said, and kissed him again. She let go to take off her t-shirt and lowered her breasts over his face. He squeezed them from the sides against his face and kissed one of them. He lowered his arm until he found the hem of her pants, his hand slid right in and his fingers started moving in circles.

She moaned softly.

He let go of her breast to say, “Shhhh.”

She giggled and sat back on his lap, unbuttoning his briefs to free his boner. She took the lube out of the drawer in her nightstand—quite clumsily, as they couldn’t see anything—and took off her pants and panties.

He threw his head back as he enjoyed the moist strokes of her hand around his cock until, without notice, she sat on it and they both let out a soft moan at the pleasure.

“Shhhh,” they said at the same time, and then giggled.

She lowered her torso over him and he held her head to kiss her, while trying his best to stay quiet until they were done.

No T.V. on, no need to pretend in the morning that she was waking up next to him when she got into his place and sneaked under his sheets. They fell asleep together and woke up together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note on self-harm just in case someone isn't too familiar with the subject.  
First of all, it is an addiction. For many people who do this, it can bring relief to awful feelings and sensations.  
Second, it usually isn't a suicide attempt. Some people who cut themselves might be suicidal, but some aren't.  
Third, it is MUCH more common than you think.  
Jon has been in a super low moment in his life back then, as I explained in chapter 4, and I love showing here how much he's grown, because it is possible to live a healthy life again, even after terrible pits of depression. One of the persons I love the most in the world struggled with self-harm in his early 20s, passing out in our friend's bathroom, who had to take him to the hospital to get him bandaged and hydrated... and he's come so far now, I can't even put into words how proud I am of him and how inspiring it is to know that there's always hope. Our brains try to trick us and tell us that there isn't. He helped me out with this chapter and is such a light in my life.  
What I admire most about Jon is that he learned to grow on his own and without having someone else as a crutch. I think Dany here is also growing on her own, she just has company (Jon) and a little help (her mother), but all the effort and internal growth is on her.
> 
> Jon’s role has been in the past couple of chapters quite passive bc there wasn’t much he could do besides waiting. He cannot expose himself or risk being caught. If anyone has any suggestions of how Jon could be more active in the PAST chapters, it would be super helpful.  
Two more chapters (they will be v long like 15k words each) and we’re done with the fic :(


	16. White Canvases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Neither love is a cage, nor freedom is being alone. Love is the freedom to fly accompanied, it is to let be without possessing.” -Gabriel García Marquez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I HAVE JUST POSTED THREE CHAPTERS: CHAPTER 16, 17, AND 18. MAKE SURE TO READ THE THREE OF THEM! (Chapter 18 actually isn’t a chapter, it’s just a message).
> 
> Yes! The time has arrived <3
> 
> I think it’s better to do things well than to do them quickly. I’ve been revising and editing these chaps multiple times, discussing them with different people to gather feedback. And now… I love the outcome. So, thank you, thank you, thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy this LONG ending :) It’s different from the rest of the story. I consider these two chapters an epilogue, they’re _kind_ of a denouement but also kind of a short story on their own. According to the Hemingway App, they will take you an hour and a half to read lol so buckle up! 
> 
> Also, in early September I filled this fic with different paintings to complement the text. You can go back to chapter 1 and scroll down to find at least 2 paintings per chapter :)

_The Sea at Saintes-Maries_ _(1888)_ by Vincent Van Gogh

* * *

** JON  **

It was all staged carefully. After receiving Dany’s text, Jon sat on a bench in the park and pretended he was reading a book. On the corner of his eye, he saw her and the kids approaching him, but kept on pretending.

“Look who just _happens_ to be here!” Dany told the kids. “My friend Jon!”

Jon lifted his head. “Daenerys! How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you? Remember Daemon and Visenya?”

Daemon was holding Dany’s hand with both his hands and Visenya held a football ball under her arm.

“Of course,” he smiled at them. “How are you?”

“Good,” they just said.

Jon’s hands were sweating, but the kids didn’t even care about his presence.

“What have you been up to?” Dany asked him.

Their fake small talk didn’t last long as the kids started insisting that they wanted to play football.

“I love football,” Jon lied.

“Come along, then!” Dany said with a grin.

The four of them walked together across the park. Visenya went over to a playground and asked the kids there if they wanted to play.

“Actually,” Dany told her. “Why don’t we play just the four of us?”

“We can’t play football with only four people,” Visenya said.

In no time, six other kids followed her to play. Jon shrugged, smiling at Dany, and they sat next to other parents.

“Share the ball with Daemon,” Dany told Visenya, as always. He couldn’t keep up with how hard she kicked the ball or how fast she ran. He ended up being the goal-keeper.

“You two have lovely kids,” one of the parents told them.

Jon and Dany chuckled awkwardly.

“He’s not—” Dany shook her head.

“I’m not their dad,” Jon said, realizing he was the only adult here who wasn’t a parent.

Visenya kicked the ball. It landed on Daemon’s side and pushed him to the ground. He cried. Dany rushed to him. Jon followed her. He had fallen over his arm and his elbow was bleeding.

“You have to be careful with your brother,” Dany told Visenya.

“Sorry, Daemon,” Visenya said.

Dany turned to Jon and said, “We gotta go home now.”

“I could drive you guys there, for you to get faster,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Jon drove them home. Dany cleaned Daemon’s wound with peroxide and Jon helped her cover it with gauze. The wound was bigger and deeper than what it had seemed at first.

“What do you say, Daemon?” Dany asked him.

“Thank you,” Daemon told Jon.

“You’re welcome,” Jon smiled.

“Thanks, Jon,” Dany said. “Can I give you anything to eat or drink?”

“Sure, whatever you have, thanks.”

Dany served them fruit and they all sat to eat together.

“So,” Jon tried to break the silence. “What do you guys want to be when you grow up?”

“A firefighter,” Daemon said

“A football player,” Visenya said.

“Jon is a chef,” Dany told them.

“Cool!” Visenya said. It finally seemed like he was a bit interesting to them.

“What’s your favorite food?” Jon asked them.

“Chicken nuggets,” Daemon said.

“Pizza,” Visenya said.

They talked for some more minutes until his alarm went off.

“Time to go back to work,” he said. “Thanks for everything. Wait, I’ll go to the bathroom first.”

He got up and walked to the bathroom and before he went in, Visenya asked, “How do you know where the bathroom is?”

His mouth stayed agape and he just said, “Wild guess.”

He wondered what excuse could he and Dany have to meet up again. Another ‘random encounter’ wouldn’t be believable. So before leaving, he told them, “I actually have aloe plants in my house. I can bring one tomorrow and you can cover the wound with it. Heals like magic.”

“That would be great,” Dany said. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Sure, see you tomorrow. Bye guys,” he told the kids.

They only replied, “Bye.”

He came back the following day with the aloe plant and showed Dany how to place it in Daemon’s elbow.

“You’re all set, Daemon. Soon that elbow will be as if nothing had happened,” he told him.

“Thank you,” Daemon replied.

“Jon, you’re so kind,” Dany said. “Actually, I’m doing a barbecue here next week with some friends, would you like to come?”

“I’d love to, thanks,” he replied.

* * *

He and some of her friends from art school went to her place on a Thursday evening. Some of them brought their children over to play with Daemon and Visenya.

“Is there dessert?” Visenya asked Dany as she sat with her friends at a table in the garden.

“Not yet, but you could make one.”

“I can help,” Jon said.

Five kids followed him into the kitchen as he looked for ingredients in the fridge and shelves. There was butter, flour, sugar, lemon… they could make lemon cookies.

“Step one, wash your hands,” he told them. They did so.

“Step two, one cup of flour.”

They measured it themselves and mixed it with sugar and melted butter while he scratched the peel off some lemons. They kneaded the dough, formed little balls in their hands and squeezed them. Before placing them in the oven, they wanted to eat the dough.

“Sure,” Jon said.

“Jon, they can’t eat the dough!” Dany said from outside.

“How did you even hear them?” Jon asked with a laugh.

The kids stared at him with sad, begging eyes.

“Sorry, no,” Jon said.

“Please! Please, Jon!”

He sighed. He wanted them to like him. He waited a while, and when Dany wasn’t looking anymore, he let them eat a piece of leftover dough. Thirty minutes later, the cookies were done. Jon took them out and they shared them with the guests. Everyone, especially the kids, loved them.

“Is there a rat under that hat?” Dany asked him.

“Thank you but they did everything,” Jon said, pointing at the kids.

When everyone was leaving, Jon said goodbye to the kids and Dany told them, “Jon can teach you guys to make many more recipes, would you like that?”

“More pastries!” Daemon said.

“I could also teach you how to make tuna tartare,” Jon joked.

The kids frowned in confusion.

“Pastries, please,” Visenya said.

Jon nodded and said, “It would be my pleasure. See you, guys.”

“Bye,” Dany said. “Thanks for coming.”

In front of the kids, they were still actors, still ‘just friends’.

Dany hung out with Jon and his friends, too. Arya came to King’s Landing for work and Dany saw her again after many years. The word quickly spread around their family that Jon and Dany were dating again, and they had to keep on telling the story they had told Daario.

_In the Kitchen, Study_ by Aleksei Demchenko

Finally, he took her to the restaurant.

They arrived before the evening shift started, and he introduced her personally to everyone in the crew as his girlfriend.

“I want her to eat the best dish in here,” he told them. “Without her, I wouldn’t be working in the kitchen.”

“Wow! How long have you guys been dating?” one of the cooks asked.

“Um…” he scratched his head. They had agreed they would tell everyone they were just starting to date.

“Not long,” Dany said, “but we’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “We go way back… as… friends… and she convinced me to study gastronomy.”

“What should we cook for her, then?” another cook asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll cook,” Jon replied. “Your shift has not started yet.”

He made a soup with river prawns, fish, potatoes, eggs, milk, oregano, and chili peppers while she stood next to him, watching how he did everything.

He asked the cooks their opinion. They tried it. Some recommended more oregano or milk.

“Can I try it too?” she asked.

“No spoilers,” he told her.

When it was done, they sat together at a table. They were on their own, as the restaurant had not opened yet. Their legs were touching and he placed an arm behind her chair, watching her mouth as she took a sip of the soup and hummed with her eyes closed.

“It’s so good,” she smiled. “I honestly think I’ll tear up from how good it is.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. He couldn’t help the joy overflowing his body from finally having her here with him. He tried a sip of it too, and couldn’t help saying out loud, “Modesty aside, this soup really is delicious. Tastes almost as good as your pussy juice.”

She slapped his arm. “You’re gross! Shut up!” she said, laughing.

He kissed her cheek again and she told him to look behind him. The crew was looking at them through a small window in the door and quickly ducked when he saw them.

“So nosey,” he said with a laugh.

He looked around at the restaurant’s walls. A few old paintings hung on them. They had been there for too long.

“I think it’s time for a makeover of this setting,” he told her. “Give me a bunch of paintings, as many as you want, and we’ll hang them here.”

“What about the ones here? They’re nice.”

“Nah, they’re not that good.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“We can put beneath each painting a description with the title, the size, the artist’s name, the artist's Instagram page, and, of course, the words 'for sale'.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Will the owners be alright with it?”

Jon shrugged. “I’ll convince them. They’re nothing without me, they want to please me. And I don’t think they’ll say no to having such beautiful art hanging on their walls for free.”

She held his face with both hands and placed two kisses on his lips. “Thank you.”

He turned around and saw the crew spying at them through the window again. They ducked right away again. He didn’t mind the audience and gave her another kiss. He was unbelievably proud of her.

His alarm went off and he had to get back to work, so she left. He wished he could hang out with her more often, but he worked more than sixty hours a week, sometimes more than seventy. He was home only early in the mornings and late at night. On Saturday and Sunday, when she was free, they could only meet up during his break. There was no choice. He was the chef. The first one in and the last one out.

When he went back into the kitchen, his workmates joked around saying, “Jon is _so in love!_”

He had a horizontal relationship with them. They spent more time with each other than with their families, anyway. He drank a cup of coffee, and in no time, they were all rushing from one side of the kitchen to another—cutting, boiling, and frying.

* * *

** DANY  **

Jon, Dany, Daemon, and Visenya started going out together on Thursdays: to the aquarium, to the movies, or to a picnic at the park. On the weekends, Jon and Dany went out on their own.

They were together at the beach one time during his break in the afternoon, sitting on a blanket on the sand. He sat with his hands on the blanket and his knees up as she sat back against his chest between his legs. Her shoes were off and her feet were buried in the sand. The breeze was cold, but she loved to be in front of the sea, watching its dance and hearing its song.

She took a picture of the seascape and shared it on her Instagram page. She had more followers now and was selling more paintings, not enough to be a full-time painter yet though, so she still worked part-time in a clothing store. She felt embarrassed to have a master's degree and work at a place where no education was needed, so when a new acquaintance asked her what she did for a living, she only said she was a painter. She guessed painting really was what she did for a living. The more she painted, the more she needed to keep painting to feel alive.

She took a picture of her and Jon, something they didn’t do while they were having an affair. They looked together at the pictures on her phone, including some that they had taken with the kids at the aquarium.

“They like you,” she said, caressing his knee.

“Yeah,” he said.

“And do you like them?”

“Of course I do.”

“Just making sure,” she laughed. “Don’t want you to be a stepdad of kids you don’t like.”

He smiled. “That’s not an issue.” He cleared his throat. “But there _is_ something we have to talk about.”

“Uh oh,” she said.

“I know I have to help with the household and the kids and all that, but—” he trailed off.

“What about it?”

“You said your ex didn’t help much because he worked a lot and, well, I work more than him. I won’t be as present as I’d like to be. At home I only make breakfast because I eat lunch and dinner with the crew at the restaurant, we cook our meals there. Of course I’ll still clean and cook, as I do now that I live on my own. There’s no way you’re gonna be the only one who does that. But I get home late at night most days. I can cook early in the mornings, I cook quickly. On Thursdays I can help sweeping, mopping, cleaning bathrooms, everything else.”

“Okay, you’ll be helping a lot that way.”

“But what kind of stepdad will I be? A stepdad on Thursdays? Someone who just says goodnight to them before they go to sleep?”

“Can’t you have more than one day a week off?”

He smiled sadly and shook his head. “I’m the chef. I really can’t. This must be one of the most demanding jobs out there. But there’s no other way I’d rather spend my days.”

“I get it.”

“I know you do.” He sighed. “The restaurant industry is not family-friendly. I’ve tried to be a good boyfriend this past year, and I want to keep on being one for the rest of our lives, but I won’t even be able to eat dinner with you three.”

“We’ll eat breakfast together.” She rubbed his thigh up and down.

“Breakfast is never fun, though.”

“Dinner isn’t fun with my kids, either, if it makes you feel better. It’s mostly me trying to get Daemon to eat.” She giggled, but he only sighed.

“The workers in the kitchen… the ones who have families… they work part-time. _Or_ they have quit and looked for a job in another field. Kitchens are way too demanding.” He exhaled loudly. “I can’t work part-time. I’m the backbone of that kitchen.”

She stayed silent for a while, and then said, “Relationships are like this, constantly looking for a middle ground in what the two want or need.”

“But they also require sacrifice, right?” he said.

“Yeah, many times. But I let you go years ago for you to become a chef, because I know you’re great at it and love it madly. I don’t want to make you work part-time or take another job. I really hope you do help at home, though. I have two jobs, it’s not easy for me either.”

“I swear I’ll help. You can kick me out otherwise.”

She laughed and slapped his leg. “I’m never gonna kick you out!”

“I’m never not gonna help, either,” he laughed and kissed her head. “But you’re not upset that we’ll only see each other for some hours a day?”

“I’d rather live with you for some hours a day than not at all.” She sat up and turned to face him. “There’s always gonna be an imbalance, right?”

“There’s always gonna be an imbalance,” he agreed. “And now that we’re talking about this… will this be it for our family or… will we have kids of our own?” She jerked back. “Sorry, totally caught you off guard with that.”

She blinked quickly and said, “You did. Well, first I want to know what you want."

He looked down. “My answer may be obvious. It _could_ be nice… in another life. I’ve worked hard for _a decade_ to get where I am and I want to keep on improving as a chef. So, I think I must be direct with you: I don’t want kids of my own. I hope you understand.”

He rubbed his thighs with his palms. She held his hand. He was sweating, even though it was a chilly evening.

“Want it or not, children are a setback from your work goals. Unless, of course, you’re a terrible father who doesn’t spend time with them. Being a parent can be rewarding in many aspects, but daily life isn’t all love and rainbows. It’s more stressful than any job. A child consumes everything in your life: your time, your energy, your money. You give up everything for them. My kids have always asked me if we could have a dog. I’ve always said no. Not even a hamster.”

“So does that mean… you don’t want another kid?”

She held the space between her eyebrows. “I need time for myself, time I haven’t had all these years. I love kids, but it’s been a challenge to finally find a balance in my life when it comes to motherhood and work. I don’t know if I can do this all over again.”

“We’ll be like family, right? The four of us. I guess there’s more to family than reproduction.”

She kissed his cheek and hugged him by the neck. “You can totally be a source of love and care and growth for them. And they to you.” She let go. “I’m glad we’re having this conversation, anyway. Neither of my pregnancies was planned. And the burden is always heavier on the mother. _Always_. Want it or not. From the moment of pregnancy to the birth to the feeding… Women are expected to spend more time with the kids or taking care of the household.”

“I guess that’s why when we think about world-famous chefs, award-winners… most of them are men. By far. Actually, I was able to rise this much in the kitchen because I worked a lot, full-time, and I worked a lot because I had no other responsibilities. Even when I traveled on vacation, I traveled to taste new foods, find new flavors and ingredients. Everything in my life has been about improving my work. This is a job for single people with no family,” he chuckled, even though he wasn’t kidding. “Restaurants can’t even afford paid maternity leave for some months, the margins are way too small. Maybe huge franchises can, but not regular restaurants. But even if they could, it’s difficult to get back on track. If you leave for three or four months, the menu could have rotated a couple of times, and the crew may be using new techniques. People who want to be parents should choose another field.”

“I wouldn’t be able to watch you quit your job and look for something else to be a father. Leaving your passion for a kid, that’s what happened to me.”

“We should work for fewer hours. Not just chefs, even those with regular nine-to-five jobs. It’s too much. You can’t properly raise kids that way.”

“But can’t there be two chefs, one for each shift?”

“No, I’m the best one at my job. I need to direct that kitchen. And even if I trained someone to work part-time as another chef, I’d earn half my wage. We want to live in a place with four bedrooms. You don’t earn much, we won’t be able to afford it. I just wish everyone could work like five hours a day and earn the same wage as we do now.”

Dany chuckled. “That’s impossible. Maybe we just need cheaper childcare. Daycare centers and all that.”

“It also seems impossible.” She sat by his side and held his hand on her lap. “I wouldn’t want to have a kid and put all the pressure of parenting on you. You’re not just a mother. And you're _not_ a maid. You gotta paint. I would be just like him if I insist on having a kid, then go to work most of the day and let you do everything on your own and not have time to paint. Our relationship has always been about letting the other fulfill their passion.”

She kissed his cheek, scratching his opposite cheek. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling as the sea hissed in front of them.

“If I could go back in time,” she said, “you have no idea all the things I’d do differently.”

“Me too.”

They stayed silent for a while. She thought about the mistakes she had made in her life, yet again, and the road they had taken her through.

He said, “Maybe if we had stayed together and had children, I wouldn’t be a chef now, only a cook. I guess I wouldn't have worked as hard all these years.”

“Maybe you could have been a chef… but an absent father,” she joked.

He laughed out loud. “Or a good father but a regular cook. In your case, maybe your art wouldn’t be this good now if we had stayed together and had had children.”

“Why?”

“Well, your current paintings are better than the ones I brought from the north, and a lot of that improvement has happened because of the depth in them. Maybe they’re that deep because you’ve gone through a lot of pain these years. I’m not saying that suffering is a good thing, it’s not, but you learned how to channel pain and produce beautiful works, like writers who turn their miseries into amazing stories. Very few people can transform suffering into beauty. Maybe that’s the key to bear with pain. And maybe, if you had stayed with an amazing guy like me,” he placed his hand on his chest jokingly, “you would have never discovered the key to bear with pain.”

She pursed her lips. “I would have rather stayed with you, anyway. I still wish I’d never gone through all this pain.”

“I wish I had never gone through my pain, either—being depressive, losing my father, losing you—but I learned from all that too: to be alone, to live for myself. It’s not just because I was single. A lot of single people don’t know how to be alone. Who knows? Maybe I would be a very attached and whiny boyfriend if we had never broken up.” He chuckled. “Anyway, what use is there to keep on thinking about the what-ifs? It’s better to be proud of how we endured awful things but are now stronger because of that. Our current relationship is stronger and more mature than the first one thanks to everything we’ve learned these years.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and he rested his head on hers. Only the waves spoke now. There was something special in being over the sand, under the sky, facing the sea, and amidst the wind. In nature, everything worked the way it should. Every wave was pushed by a strong wind, strengthened or weakened by the positions of the sun and the moon. Some things in life were out of her control, too. She couldn’t have everything she wanted. They couldn’t work five hours a day, like Jon had said, and have the rest of the time for themselves. But, just like water in a vase, they could adapt to those limits. It meant less time for leisure, less time for the kids, less time for intimacy, too, but was there a life without limits?

The water licked the sand, smoothening it. But it also carried pebbles.

* * *

**JON **

When Dany proposed to the kids they could try ratatouille, they couldn’t say no to Jon coming over to teach them to cook it. There wasn’t much they could do, though. They couldn’t use the knives to cut the vegetables, so Jon and Dany ended up cooking it while the kids put the movie on the T.V. When the dish was done, they sat down to eat while watching it. Jon sat next to Dany on the same couch but they kept their distance. Daemon complained about how the dish only had vegetables but ate anyway as he watched the movie.

After that, Jon started coming over to the house more often. He watched with them MasterChef Junior and tried to teach them to cook. He was convinced that by trying new flavors, Daemon would be less picky when eating. He let them experiment in the kitchen however they wanted to, mixing fruits with spaghetti, with chocolate, with hot dogs. The outcome was always gross, but then again, many of his own outcomes had also been gross. Rhaella almost fainted one time when she saw the mess they had made in their kitchen, so Jon proposed they could experiment in his place from now on.

He also showed them finer dining, though. Alongside Dany, he cooked fish, clams, oysters, scallops, shrimp, mussels, crab, scallops, and octopus. The kids found astounding how octopus reduced so much when cooked, but didn’t like eating it. They preferred chicken nuggets and hot dogs, but at least Dany loved almost everything Jon cooked.

Still, they got bored quickly at Jon’s place. There wasn't much else for them to do there. They mostly wanted to play video games. Daario had bought them a PlayStation and they always wanted to play. Dany allowed them to play at most an hour a day. Jon played with them. Dany sucked at it, so she would rather just watch. He witnessed Daemon and Visenya's arguments to choose which game to play, which ended in tears sometimes. They also begged Dany to play longer once the hour was over, but she never gave in, even if they cried. At his place, they always grabbed his iPad to download games, even though he had asked them not to use it without his permission. Then, Daemon would beg Dany to go home because he was bored. Jon wondered how often would he have to witness this kind of fits and fights in the future.

* * *

Three months after that day in the park, Dany told the kids that Jon was her boyfriend. He finally felt comfortable holding her hand in front of them, going to their place more often and being closer to the kids. He was good at math, so he helped Visenya with her math homework often.

One afternoon when Dany and Rhaella were busy, Jon took the kids to the restaurant for dinner. He served them a pan of mussels in a casserole with fries on the side. He dipped a fry into the sauce of the mussels and Visenya bit the tip.

“Do you like it?” He asked her.

She nodded and kissed his cheek. He blushed and his mouth stayed agape in disbelief.

They watched movies together every week. Visenya loved the movie The Parent Trap, but Jon couldn’t stand it. Just like in all those fairytales, the villain was an evil stepmother and the happy ending was the parents getting back together.

“You choose the next movie, then,” Dany told him.

But it seemed like those images of stepparents didn’t interfere in their relationship. After all, he had strived these months to be as nice to them as he could.

* * *

** DANY  **

When Visenya was ten and Daemon, eight, the three of them were cuddling in Dany’s bed when she asked them, “What do you guys think about Jon?”

“He’s nice,” Visenya said.

“I am a happier person when I’m with him, just like I’m a happier person when I’m with you. And he really cares about you guys. That’s why I want to know your opinions about him living with us.”

“So, you can and dad can live with other people now?” Visenya asked her.

“Yes, love,” Dany replied. “We’ve talked about this. Your dad and I are not married anymore. We can love other people.” She swallowed hard, remembering this had not started after the separation. “But that doesn’t change the love we both feel for you two. And I wouldn’t think about living with Jon if I wasn’t absolutely certain that he will be good, kind, and even fun with you guys. He’s a good person, and he really enjoys our company.”

“He _is_ good,” Daemon agreed.

“Yes,” Visenya said. “He makes the best nuggets I’ve ever tried.”

Dany chuckled and held her hand.

“He’ll be our new dad, then?” Visenya asked.

“No. Your dad will be your dad still.”

“So, he will be our… stepdad?” Daemon asked.

“Yes. I think he would be good at it. Don’t you think?”

“Yes but… will we still see dad on the weekends?” Visenya asked.

“Every weekend, yes,” Dany said.

“He’ll live here?” Daemon asked.

“No, we’d live somewhere else, the four of us. You guys need a place with a bedroom of your own, and I need a room to paint, too.”

“So, we’ll move to a bigger place?” Visenya asked with a smile.

Dany bit her lip. “Well, not necessarily bigger. But different.”

* * *

The evening before the move, she was packing and organizing her paintings and all her materials when she called Rhaella to her bedroom.

“I finished this one just in time,” Dany told her, showing her a painting of a field of sunflowers. “What do you see in it? What do sunflowers make you think about?”

Rhaella squinted her eyes, watching the painting. “Well, they’re always facing the sun, chasing light. They also make me think about life, plants are always life…”

Dany nodded. “No matter what, they’ll always look at the sun, it’s their guide. Some days it may be cloudy so they might not see it, but it’s still there, just a little hidden.”

“Beautiful. Is it dry? Should I help you wrap it?”

Dany shook her head. “I will leave it here. It’s for you. Unless you don't like it and want me to take it away.”

Rhaella laughed. “I love it. Thank you.”

“I lost you for some years. But I’ll always look up at you. To you.”

They hung it on Rhaella’s bedroom wall. The colors lightened up the mood of the room. No wall should be free from paintings, at least they wouldn’t be in her future home.

The doorbell rang and Dany rushed downstairs. Jon came over to help her finish packing.

“I’m almost done,” she said as they walked into her bedroom and she closed the door behind them. “It’s just a bunch of stuff that’s left.”

He squatted down to put her books in a cardboard box, while she put her clothes in a suitcase.

He said, “Today I went to the pet sto—”

“Shhh,” she interrupted him.

“Okay, sorry,” he whispered.

“Did everything go alright?”

“Yes. He is _so _cute.”

She pushed her arm deep into a drawer and took out her vibrator. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows playfully.

“The most important object,” he said, took it from her hand and pushed it against her cunt. She chuckled. He put it in the box.

Daemon opened the door and asked, “What are you guys doing?”

Jon threw a sweater over the vibrator in the box.

“I’ve told you to knock,” Dany said. “And it's late. Time to go to bed.”

Jon took Daemon to his and Visenya’s bedroom and said goodnight to both.

When Jon was leaving, Dany went with him downstairs to say goodbye. He kissed her at her doorstep. She stepped outside too and kissed him again, closing the door behind them for no one to see them.

“Tomorrow,” he said, holding her hips and kissing her softly, but deeply. She leaned back against the door and hugged him by the neck as their mouths opened wide against each other. He held the side of her face with one hand and pushed his tongue into her mouth and she scratched the nape of his neck gently. The kiss went on, and it didn’t seem like it would end. He slowly thrust his hips against hers, making her moan quietly.

“Why do you kiss me so good when you can’t stay over?” she asked.

“Why can’t I stay over?” He kissed the side of her mouth.

“I’m sure they’re still awake.”

“What does it matter if they see us sleeping in the same bed?” he said with a chuckle and kissed her cheek. “Starting tomorrow we will sleep together in our new place.”

“Then you can wait until tomorrow,” she chuckled.

“I can sneak in and sneak out tomorrow morning, like in the old times.”

She smirked at him and turned around. As she inserted the key on the keyhole, he pushed his crotch against her arse. She chuckled and opened the door. They tiptoed towards the staircase, but before they went up, Visenya appeared at the top and said, “Mum, can you help me with my homework?”

“Homework?” Dany asked her. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I know. I had forgotten about my English homework and I’m stuck.”

Dany turned to look at Jon, who gave her a soft smile.

“I’ll get going, then,” Jon said. “See you guys tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there in a second,” Dany told her, and went outside with Jon again.

“In my car,” he said quietly, pushing a lock of her behind her ear.

“They could see us through the windows,” she said.

“I know some dark alleys around where no one will see us.”

Dany chuckled and shook her head. “She’s probably wondering why I’m not going in yet. I’m sure we can survive just one more night sleeping in separate beds.”

She ran her hands up the sides of his torso and kissed his lips.

“Don’t get me hornier, then,” he said.

She smiled and ran her tongue across his lips, holding his bulge. “Hope tonight you’ll be thinking about me.”

“I will.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And I could video call you to see me thinking about you.”

She chuckled. “I’d love that. Will help her with that homework quickly.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He got into his car and drove away. She went back inside with a wide smile.

* * *

Bare, white walls surrounded them when they walked into the flat. They were canvases that told her she could start all over if she wanted to, that she could forget about her regrets, her mistakes, or the ways she had been hurt.

The flat wasn’t big. The couches, table, and chairs barely fit in the combined living room and dining room. Only a counter separated that area from the kitchen. But it had what they needed: four bedrooms and a balcony. The location wasn’t great either. It wasn’t close to the sea, as Dany would have wished, but it was sort of close to Jon’s restaurant.

They moved their furniture in with the help of the workers of the moving company. His T.V. was set in the living room, hers in their bedroom. The kitchen had both their china and cutlery, his coffee maker, and her waffle maker. His plants were on the balcony, her paintings were on the walls. Their clothes were in different drawers but in the same bureau and closet. And finally, they placed their toothbrushes in the same cup. When the kids came back from school, Dany showed them every room, nervous, knowing they wanted to live in a bigger place.

“Do you like it?” she asked them.

“There’s no garden,” Daemon said, “and no trampoline.”

“We’ll go to the park often. You guys can play there all you want.”

“I like the view,” Visenya only said, looking out the window in the living room.

“Well,” Dany said, “there’s something that might cheer you guys up. Jon, isn’t there someone you wanted to introduce the kids to?”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he said. He went to his and Dany's bedroom and walked back out with a cage in his arms and a hamster inside it.

The kids gasped in excitement and rushed to Jon with one of the biggest grins she had ever seen on them. Jon opened the cage to take it out and handed it to them. Visenya took it from his hands and hugged it against her chest.

“Let me hold it too!” Daemon told her.

“Thank you, mummy,” Visenya said.

“Don’t thank me, thank him,” Dany replied, pointing at Jon.

Daemon hugged him. “Thank you, Jon.”

“Thank you, Jon,” Visenya said too. “How did you convince my mum to get a pet?”

“Hamsters are nocturnal. The house is basically empty during the day, so he'll sleep at that time, and I also promised her that the three of us will take care of it. She won’t have to do anything about him. Right?” he asked them.

“Yes!” Visenya said right away.

“Yes, totally,” Daemon said, taking it from Visenya’s hands.

“Does it have a name yet?” she asked.

“I have a proposal for a name,” Jon said. “Ratatouille.”

“But he’s not a rat!” Visenya said with a laugh.

“He’s still a rodent, though,” Jon said.

They all agreed it was a good name. Jon and Dany sat at the table in the dining room as they watched the kids put him inside a hamster ball to run around the house. Dany held Jon by the arm, kissed his cheek, and rested her head on his shoulder. Jon and Dany were too tired to cook so they ordered take out food. They watched The Sound of Music, chosen by Jon because it included a nice stepmother.

* * *

The kids went to bed. Jon and Dany went into their bedroom, and as soon as she closed the door, they hugged. She held him by the waist, rested her head on his shoulder, and exhaled, allowing her body to lean into his freely. He held her by the shoulders and rested his cheek on her head.

Her legs hurt. It had been a long and exhausting day and some rest was necessary. But she couldn’t let go. His embrace didn’t seem to come to an end, either. So they stayed silent as their chests moved against each other with their breathing. He had the same scent as he had a decade ago. A tear left her eye. And another one. She sniffed loudly and he caressed her head with his palm.

She let go and looked up at him. His eyes were watery too. He wiped her damp cheek with his thumb. She thought she should say something, maybe an “I love you”, “let’s go to bed”, or even “you look tired”. But any sound might ruin the moment, and no words would be enough. They had talked a lot this past year, and they had a life ahead to talk even more, anyway.

Without saying a word, they got into bed. Their bed. A place to rest and make love. No bed should be a place where one lies down every night hoping their spouse didn’t touch them. Those days were so far behind that she almost couldn’t remember the feeling.

“I’m happy I’m alive,” he said.

She placed her hand on his cheek and said, “You wonderful human being. We aren’t just alive, we are actually _living_. I love you so much. And my children love you too. We’re a different family, yes, but we’ll be a happy one. I’ve never had a happy family… neither have them.” She kissed his chest and rested her head against it. “I don’t know how can I express all my love for you.”

“No need. I wouldn’t doubt your love for me for a second after everything we’ve gone through.”

Another tear left her eye and fell on his chest. Years ago, she used to think she should settle to unhappiness, as everyone had problems, anyway. But here and now she wondered how could she had ever been so foolish.

She kissed Jon goodnight. The first of thousands of nights—of thousands of ends and beginnings—together.

The following day, Dany and the kids went to the restaurant when it was closed between the first and second shifts. Jon's coworkers had invited them over for a surprise celebration to celebrate the start of his new family. They made a huge cake, decorated the place with balloons and serpentine and put on music while he went to buy some ingredients.

She filmed him with her phone when he came back in. She would always keep this video of him smiling so wide. They took pictures of the four of them, and Daemon was photographed with his finger on the cake frosting. In the next picture, Jon hugged him from behind, holding both his arms so he wouldn’t do that again.

_The Happy Lovers _by Gustave Courbet

* * *

“Fuck,” she said under her breath as she read at a text that had just popped into her phone screen. It was Sunday morning and Daario was asking her if he could go into the flat that night when he dropped off Visenya and Daemon. He said he wanted to know where his kids were living. She and Jon were having breakfast and she pushed the phone across the table for him to see.

“I don’t want him here,” she said. “This is a safe space for me. He… brings back bad memories.”

“Then don’t let him in.”

“But he’s got a point, he should know where the kids live.”

Jon sighed. “Then I can show him around. You can go to the supermarket or something to avoid him.” She chuckled. “Seriously.” He laughed too. “I know it’s a pain in the ass to be in the same room as him. So I can just say you forgot to buy some food for breakfast.”

Dany stayed silent, pondering on it. “You know what? I'll stay. I want him to see where we live. I want him to know what I have achieved without him.”

“Yeah,” Jon smiled. “Let him know you have a good life without him. We don’t have much, but show it off with pride.”

“We do have a good life.” But instead of smiling, she exhaled loudly. “Do we deserve it? After what we’ve done?”

He looked up at her. “Deserve? I don’t know what we _deserve_. Does Daario deserve our kindness? A second chance to be a better father? To enjoy his children?”

“I think he doesn’t. I don’t want to be kind to him. Daario has done awful things, but… can we call ourselves the good ones?” she thought out loud. “M—maybe? Our affair hasn’t hurt anyone else, not even my kids. Sure, getting a divorce hurt Daario, but that was a consequence of being a bad husband. Or maybe we’re just…” she swallowed loudly, “lying to ourselves because the truth is too difficult to bear? Or... I don't know! Maybe cheating wasn’t _bad, _but it wasn’t _good. _Should we have waited instead of rushing things?”

If their relationship was this good now, it was because they had been patient before moving in together. That way Jon had built a relationship with the kids, they had made sure that living together would be the best for the family, and Daario had gotten used to them being together. Likewise, she needed patience to paint a painting, to achieve the right color, to paint the right spot. He also needed patience to grow his plants or to cook certain dishes. Patience always bore its fruits.

She went on, “Maybe we could have been patient back then. We could have waited and been just friends until I left him.”

“Would that not count as cheating?" he asked her. "Me waiting for you to leave him? Is physical touch the only thing that makes cheating cheating?”

She shrugged. “I just know that if we had never cheated, we wouldn’t have to live with guilt and secrets for the rest of our lives.”

“Okay, I'll give you that. Maybe we could have handled things better. We have a lot of regrets. We gotta let go of them. We’re kind to Daario, even though when I see him I feel like fighting him.” He chuckled. “I know I’d lose, but I still want to. My point is, should we punish others forever for things that they did in the past? I mean, look at us. We’ve done things that… weren’t okay… will we punish ourselves forever? Daario is still sort of annoying and he isn't a perfect dad, but he’s not hurting you like he used to. We’ve also changed, haven’t we? We’re different people than when we had an affair, we’re trying to be better every day—honest, patient, empathetic—so why should we keep on condemning ourselves for our actions from that time? Thinking about the past all the time can’t possibly be a bearable way to live. What’s done is done. We can’t go back in time and change anything.”

“But I don’t think I can or should ignore my past entirely. I’ve been dishonest, so I don't want to be dishonest again. I’ve been impatient and it was a risk, so I strive to be patient in my life now. And that is because I keep my past in mind. Because I learn from it.”

“So do I. But now that we _have _learned from it we can move on and keep on building a life where we are good, even to the ones we don’t like but must remain in our lives. Look at me. You are a good person. You are a wonderful person. You light up everyone’s life around you. You treat everyone with kindness and respect. But don’t take my word for it. Look at yourself.”

She dropped her gaze and said, “Yeah, I… I’m not only a cheater, and I’ve tried to be a good person in every other aspect of my life: as a mother, as a girlfriend, as a teacher… I'm even nice to Daario. Can’t all this compensate?”

“Then _you _must forgive yourself for that deed. Or will we feel guilty every time we have a good time? Every time we laugh together, hug, or make love? Will we feel like we don’t deserve it? It’s up to you and me, in the end. No one else is judging us.”

The orchid, the most beautiful plant in their house, grew with care and patience. But soon, its petals would fall again. They were starting a new life together, they were celebrating love and happiness. Was it wrong to enjoy this while it lasted?

* * *

** JON  **

A year went by.

“I absolutely love it,” Jon said as Visenya hung a painting of hers on the corridor wall, next to a self-portrait of Daemon and a painting Jon had made of the plant balcony. “The contrast of the light values of the sky and the dark values of the field is beautiful. It’s so soothing to look at it.”

Visenya chuckled. “I know I’m not that good. But thanks, anyway.”

Below it, she pasted the description:

_‘40x40cm. Football field during the sunset. Watercolor. Visenya.’_

Dany was sitting at the dining table doing online shopping.

“Jon, do you want these headphones?” she asked. “You can connect them to the T.V. through Bluetooth so you can let me sleep in peace.”

Living in company set limits to the previous freedom he used to have. He liked to fall asleep watching T.V., she didn’t. He wanted the windows to always be open, she didn’t. She liked to eat in bed, he didn’t. Sometimes he came back home from work exhausted and wanted to get into bed right away, but she always said, _‘Take a shower, you smell like food. The blankets and pillows will catch the scent.’_

“Come on, I always put a low volume,” Jon replied.

“Mum, didn’t you use to watch T.V. sometimes too before falling asleep?” Visenya said.

“No. I've always needed silence to fall asleep,” Dany said.

“I remember sometimes when we were little, you watched T.V. till late with a high volume. When dad was traveling.”

Jon tried to keep his eyes from widening.

Dany glanced at him and giggled nervously. “Oh, yes, I had forgotten about that. That was a long time ago. And I _rarely_ did it. Jon does it every night.”

Jon shrugged. “Sure I’ll buy the headphones.”

“I’ll buy them,” Dany said. “I’m the one who doesn’t want to listen to the T.V..”

“Jon, can you serve me a glass of water please?” Daemon asked from the living room while he played a video game.

Every time the kids asked him to do something as simple as this, a million questions came into his head: Should he serve him a glass of water? Would he be a bad stepdad if he didn’t? Or would he be teaching him that he’s their servant? Shouldn’t he teach him to be more independent? But he’d like him less if he didn’t serve him the glass of water. And Dany would think he doesn’t love the kids enough. And they would tell Daario about it, who would think that they’re unhappy with him. His daily life was full of these questions, even though a year had gone by. Where should he draw the line as a stepdad? Should he go to all their sports games? To parent-teacher conferences? Should he tuck them into bed? Should he sit on a couch next to Daemon’s bed until he fell asleep, as he was afraid of the dark? And how could he not help Visenya with her homework when he arrived from work late at night and found her sitting alone in the dining room?

“Don’t overstep, Jon, you’re not the dad,” he could hear Daario in his head.

He guessed he was second in the kid’s lives. A stepdad, after all, was someone who stepped into the family. Sometimes, he felt like an outsider. Dany tried her best not to make him feel like one. Her love for him was incredibly rewarding, and he loved her back to bits. It was inevitable, though, to get annoyed when the kids talked about the good time they had with their dad. He had moved in front of the sea and they just crossed the street to go surfing on the weekends. He always bought them the most expensive toys and games that Jon couldn’t afford, or took them to the beach club where Jon couldn’t get in, or taught them to surf which Jon couldn’t do. Jon didn’t want to tell them to shut up about their dad, but it was hard to keep a smile on his face while they complimented the man who used to abuse Dany.

* * *

“I have a group project for science class,” Visenya said as she stood at Jon and Dany’s bedroom entrance. They were both in bed, Jon was watching T.V. and Dany was reading a book. “I always go to my friends’ places but they say it’s my turn to receive them at my place. Can we go to dad’s house?”

“You gotta ask him. When?” Dany said.

“Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?” Dany repeated. “After school? He won’t be home.”

“But can’t I go anyway?”

“You can’t be at his place on your own with your friends.”

“Why? Mum, I’m almost twelve.”

“Exactly. You guys can come here or go to grandma’s.”

“No,” Visenya said.

“Visenya, this is a nice flat.” Dany forced a smile. “I love having my friends over.”

“Because _your _friends don’t have houses where the size of their living room is the size of our entire flat. And in much better neighborhoods than this one.”

“Stop comparing yourself to your friends,” Dany said in an annoyed tone.

“I’m _not _comparing myself to my friends.”

“That’s literally what you’re doing.”

“Well, I don’t want them to come over!”

“Then don’t bring them over.”

“But they’re saying that it’s _my_ turn to invite them to _my_ house! Gods! None of this would be happening if you guys had better jobs!”

“Hey!” Jon exclaimed angrily, but shut up right away.

“What did you say?” Dany asked her. “Do you have any idea how hard we work? How much effort has it taken us to be where we are right now?! How can you be so ungrateful? I’m your mother! And Jon isn’t even your father and he does so much for you, how can you be so ungrateful?! Go to your room!”

Visenya frowned and left quickly, slamming her bedroom door.

“Why didn’t you tell her anything?” Dany turned to Jon. “We can’t allow her to disrespect us that way. Why didn't you say anything else?”

“I don’t know!” he said with a frown.

“She drives me crazy! We work all day and do so much for her and don’t even get a thank you in return.” Jon only stayed silent. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“Yes, of course it bothers me,” he said. “But I’d rather not complain about the kids.”

“Why not?_ I’m_ complaining.”

“We’re not on the same page, Dany. You can raise your voice to them, you can complain about them, and they won’t doubt your love for them for a second. If I get angry at them, they could think that I don’t love them. Maybe _you_ could think I don’t love them.”

“That’s not true,” she said right away.

“I don’t know. But it’s so different for me. Every time they leave to Daario’s place on Fridays you say things like _‘finally, we’re on our own!’_. I told the crew at work one time on a Friday night that I was excited for the weekend without the kids, and they were like _‘Wow, how could you? Don’t you love them?’_ And I don’t want anyone to think that.” He looked to the ground. “I’ve had to work so hard these years to earn their love. You’ve never had to do so. They were born loving you. Even for Daario it was easier to earn back their love. So, yeah, that’s why I didn’t tell her anything!”

Dany stayed silent for a while before saying, “Why did you wait so much to tell me this?”

“I don’t wanna argue with you.”

“And look how much you have bottled up because of that.” He pulled the covers over himself, turning his back to her. “Is there… anything I can do?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“To help you? How can we change this? Are you gonna feel like this for the rest of your life?”

He turned to lay face up, looking at the roof. “Well yeah, you could be more explicit in what I should or should not do. I’m not a parent but I cater to many of their needs and wishes like a parent would do, so should I also correct them as a parent? But is it my job to raise them? Or is it my job to be your boyfriend, to support you_ in_ their raising without quite being a parent, but someone with some authority? But how much authority? I don’t know!”

“I can’t give you the list of every possible scenario and tell you how to act in it, but you are one of the two adults who run this house and pay the bills. They should respect you and if they say something like what Visenya just said, you shouldn’t stay silent and allow it. I’m not telling you to ground them, you can leave that to me. Do you want the actual responsibilities of a father, though?”

“Daario says—” Jon started.

“I know what Daario says. That he’s the father and you’re not, but he can’t have a say on what role you have in this house that is also _your _house.”

He pursed his lips and said, “I can’t have the same responsibilities as a parent. I don’t want to change everything in my life for the kids: to play video games, to drive them around, to make them all the snacks they want, to clean up their laundry. I also need time on my own at home. You’ve always wanted to see yourself as more than just a mother, I don't want my life to be just about being a stepdad.”

She looked down at her hands, nodding. “You do a lot for them. Thank you. I know you do it not only because you love me, but because you love them. You don’t _have _to raise them as I do, they’re not your kids and this might be too big of a responsibility. Maybe you don’t have the same unconditional love I have for them and it’s more difficult for you to stand their fits.”

He nodded and said, “About that, I do think I need to tell you some opinions about your parenting, though. You think that being a mother is being selfless all the time for them…”

“Of course, it’s selfless love.”

“But you do too much for them. You’re making them dependent on you. They should do more chores.”

“They’re still little.”

“I, as one of the oldest brothers, already cleaned up after myself when I was Visenya’s age. And the fact that I’m a chef doesn’t mean I’m their cook for every snack they want. If they need help with the oven or something like that, I’ll step in. But if they don’t start to learn to do their own stuff now, maybe they won’t do it once they’re teenagers. We have to set limits. Give them simple tasks, it’s less housework for us, in the end.”

So the next time they asked him for a sandwich while they were playing video games, he told them:

“Why don’t you guys grab a plate, two loaves of bread, peanut butter, or whatever you want, and make yourself a sandwich?”

He also didn’t allow them to leave the common areas a mess, nor to put cups on his wooden table in the living room without a coaster underneath. Dany also gave them some tasks: to clean their bedrooms, to make their beds, to empty and fill the dishwasher, or to fold their clothes and put them away after they were dry.

* * *

** DANY  **

Visenya’s football team won a championship at school. Jon had taken a shift off to go see the match with Dany and Daemon, even though it was a Friday night, one of the busiest nights of the week at the restaurant. Daario was there too. They didn’t talk with him much, but they all cheered for her loudly on the bleachers. When the match was over, all the kids and their parents went out to eat and celebrate. Daario sat at the other side of the table from Jon and Dany. She was relieved.

Later that evening, she got up to go to the restroom, and when she walked out, she bumped into him.

She gasped. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he replied. “Well, now that we’re here… how’s everything? How are they doing?”

“They’re doing good. They’re behaving better. Visenya is struggling with three courses. She might fail. She does her homework, but she keeps on failing the exams. Daemon is doing great in every class, as always. He’s just playing video games a little too much.”

“Well, as long as he has good grades I don’t think it’s an issue.”

“He should do something else. Like sports, or literally anything else.”

“Yeah, doesn’t want to surf with us on the weekends anymore, I don’t know if he’s told you that.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said. “But I can’t blame him. You and Visenya wake up at five a.m. to get in the cold water.”

Their conversations were limited to topics about the kids. It was always uncomfortable to be together. Now less than before, but it was always weird. Those memories couldn’t be wiped easily.

“By the way, I’m buying a house in the country,” he told her. “The kids can come over with me on the weekends.”

“Every weekend?”

“Maybe not _every_ weekend, Visenya and I have to go surfing. But whenever they want. There’s a pool in the house, the kids can bring their friends over…”

“Good,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll have fun.”

“Also, I wanna travel with them. They have a week off from school next month.” She sighed. She didn't know if he could take care of them that well. “Come on. They always insist that they want to travel. Their friends travel all the time. You can’t keep them by your side at all times.”

She scratched her arm and said, “I’ll think about it.” He nodded. “Congratulations on another house, by the way.”

“Thanks. I got promoted so—”

“Great. Enjoy it.”

“Yeah, it's cool. I might spend my retirement there.” He put his hands in his pockets.

She still resented him and thought it was unfair that he was living a nice life after all the harm he had caused her. But she said instead, “Look at you. You used to say you needed me… and you’re doing just fine.”

“Better, maybe,” he said. “Sorry, that sounded awful.”

She chuckled. “I’m better since I left too.”

“I used to hate myself. I had no self-control. I regret a lot of things.”

“I know you do.” She cleared her throat. “It’s late now. Gotta go. Enjoy your time with the kids this weekend.”

“I will.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Sometimes, when she was angry or sad, she wanted to shout at him in his face for hurting her and the kids. She wanted to retaliate. _Somehow_. But she never did. She and Jon said goodbye to everyone and walked out of the restaurant holding hands. He joked about the food not being that good, making her laugh. She didn't need to turn around to know Daario was watching.

She guessed there was no better revenge than being free and happy. Did she deserve it? She didn’t know. But she knew he didn’t deserve her.

* * *

Her left arm left the water and went back in. Her right arm left the water as she rotated her head out of the water and inhaled. In the swimming pool, only her flesh separated the water in her body and the water in the pool. Saturdays were her moistest days, she always said. After swimming, she went to the beachfront to teach in her painting workshop _en plein air. _It had taken her years of trying different subjects to realize that the sea was what she would focus on. It had been in her life in both White Harbor and King’s Landing, she had watched it for years.

All her students stood in front of blank canvases, watching the sea.

She said, “Choose what you want to see. The sea can be a killer, but it can also be life-giving. It’s where life began, after all. The first species appeared in the sea. We come from water, surrounded by fluids in the womb. The sea is also a reflector. The moon and the sun glisten on it. It isn’t completely independent. Its color changes with the weather and with the color of the sky. The wind, the sun, and the moon affect the tide. In its depths it is quiet and still, on its surface it’s roaring. It can harm or heal. I like to depict the sea because it can depict human life. Change and fluidity. It almost seems like a living thing in itself.”

She walked from one person to the other, helping each of her ten students with their paintings.

“Every seascape should have both cool and warm colors,” she said out loud as she walked around, watching the canvases. “Otherwise it feels incomplete or unbalanced.” She wished her life could only have warmth and never coldness, but it wasn’t possible to avoid storms, high tides, or typhoons forever. Despite all that, the sea was millions of years old. Still strong, still roaring.

She took the bus back home. She didn’t drive anymore, except for occasional times when she used Jon’s car, but one of the perks of it was that she could focus more on the scenery with no interruptions. She used to want to live in front of the sea and watch it and paint it every day, but she was lucky enough to be an artist, someone who could find beauty everywhere: in the buildings’ symmetric architecture, in the sun glistening on the windows, in the trees—those green spots she saw from her balcony against the grey pavement—, in the sky, in the air that caressed her face every time she left her home, in the fire every time she turned on a burner in the kitchen. The more she painted, the more she saw colors and shapes everywhere.

The flat was empty and still when she arrived. The perfect setting to paint. She put on her work clothes: an old shirt and sweatpants with dry oil stains. In the studio, her oils were organized by color on a shelf. Five works-in-progress were waiting for her: three of the sea, one of the city, and one abstract painting that represented a mountain of ice. She placed a painting of the sea on her easel. A purple sea, a transition from blue to red, from sadness to passion.

The brush stroked the canvas. Again. And again. Some paintings took her twenty hours to be done. Some took her fifty. Some small ones just took an hour. Now, instead of wanting the outcome immediately, she enjoyed every stroke that made the painting slowly come to life.

She heard the main door of the flat opening but kept on painting. Then, there was a knock at her door.

“Come in!” she said.

“Hi,” Jon said as he walked in.

“Hi,” she replied. He kissed her cheek from behind.

“Wow, you finished that one,” he said, pointing at a painting on the floor. “It’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

She had wanted the sea to look like a cozy light blue blanket, but it didn’t quite end up as planned. Her paintings were never as good as she imagined them in her head before. She could never reach the exact colors she saw when she closed her eyes and visualized the final draft. But at least those pictures in her mind were horizons that guided the process.

With time, she had become more and more attached to her work. She had contacted multiple galleries, but didn't get any answers. When one replied to a mail of hers, they said she wasn’t “good enough”. She had cried herself to sleep that night. All this struggle, for years, and not being good enough. She guessed unattachment could be one of the many things art could teach her. She deleted the mail. Maybe she wasn’t good enough, maybe she was, but either way, she would keep on practicing and improving. That was the only thing that would keep her moving forward.

“Busy Saturday?” she asked him.

“Very busy. Flew by.”

“Same.” She took a step back and watched the painting on the easel. “Pass me the knife please.”

He handed it to her and she scratched the painting carefully. Little white dots appeared and imitated drops of water.

“Won’t distract you any longer," he told her. "Will go check on Ratatouille now.”

She turned her head to him and kissed his cheek before he left the room.

They did not spend all their free time together. Sometimes she sat at the balcony reading a book while he watched T.V. in their bedroom. Sometimes she was locked in her studio painting while he took care of his plants—watering them, trimming them, changing the soil, cleaning the leaves every time there was a plague of insects. But even when they were in separate rooms, they were in company—together and free. Throughout the day, they did what they had to do and wanted to do, and at night went back to each other.

She left her paintbrushes in the water cup and moved her shoulders back and forth. She had had the entire day for herself and now her boyfriend was home. Artists had to be alone to make art, but also had to live their lives. After all, it is only from living that she could figure out what to paint and what those paintings would mean. When she came out of the room, Jon was coming out of the shower. She walked over to him with her arms wide open and a t-shirt full of fresh painting.

He widened his eyes. “No, not again.” He ran out of the bedroom into the living room. “I’m clean now and my towel is white.”

She laughed, chasing him. “But I wanna hug you! Don’t you wanna hug me?”

“Not _now_,” he said, standing on one side of the dining room table as she stood on the other side.

“Don’t you love me?”

“You’re gonna buy me another white towel, then.”

She laughed. “Lose the towel, we’re alone.”

He took it out and left it on a chair.

She tried to approach him around the table, but he still moved in the opposite direction.

“Now what?!” She laughed.

“I’m clean,” he chuckled. “Lose the t-shirt.”

She took it off and let it fall to the floor, staying in her bra and pants. “Can you hug me now?”

He walked towards her slowly, watching her closely. “Your hands are clean?”

She nodded and showed them to him, turning them on both sides. They reached each other and locked arms in a warm hug and warm colors—yellow, orange, and pink—drenched her mind.

“You can be really annoying sometimes, you know,” he told her, caressing her back.

She chuckled. “And yet… you still want to take me to bed right now, I bet.”

“Maybe,” he replied. “But my whole body aches. I’m exhausted,” he walked into bed and lay face down.

She ran her fingertips down his thigh. “Want a massage?”

“Sure, thanks.” She sat at his feet and rubbed his ankles and his calves. “By the way, I’m gonna get you an apron for you to wear while you paint, like the ones we use in the restaurant. You’re ruining many of your clothes.”

“I don’t mind. They’re old clothes. But thanks.”

She sat on his arse and massaged his shoulders. Then, she lowered her hands down his back.

“Jon,” she said, pressing her knuckles on his lower back, “You need to be in better shape. You need to work out more to have resistance.”

“I don’t want to,” he complained.

“In a decade it will be much more difficult for you to stand all day.”

He let out a hum that sounded like a whine.

She ran her hands slowly from his shoulders, down his arms, to his hands.

He said, “I know what you’re doing, by the way, but I’m tired.”

“That’s why I’m giving you a massage,” she smiled.

“A massage is never just a massage.” He chuckled.

“If you want just a massage, I’ll give you just a massage. Or…” she thrusted her hips against his arse, “you can get more than that and I’ll do all the work.” She ran her middle finger down his spine. “Your choice. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“If you’re in charge, then yes,” he replied with a smile. “I guess I’ll be more relaxed afterwards.”

He turned face up. She sat back down on his lap and went on until the massage wasn't just a massage anymore.

And another day ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In May 2019, all of us, Jonerys shippers, suffered a major blow. I didn’t watch the last bunch of episodes, but hearing what happened really affected me. My loved ones in real life didn’t understand my grief, the only ones who did were people from the internet, other Dany fans, other Jonerys shippers. We are many people around the world who have suffered for a fictional character--for the _same _fictional character--and I think, oddly, that that’s beautiful. We love fiction. If anything, this attachment we have for fictional characters shows us that we can still live in illusion, in our imaginations, that we can believe something so strongly that our reactions to it are completely real. And I think that, in many cases, our imagination and stories help us go through life and all its hardships. These characters are fake, but our feelings are _very_ real. 
> 
> This taught me two things:
> 
> 1\. My readers and I have much more in common than we think. We have a common _pain, _for which I feel complete sympathy towards you and believe that we all can get through it. 
> 
> 2\. I too have taken fictional stories very seriously. So I understand that some people don’t like certain things about this fic, not everyone will love every story. I just think that the way certain people express their disagreements isn’t the best one.
> 
> Damn, I can’t keep up with the complaints that are accumulating in my inbox. I get anxiety attacks every time I post a new chapter. Like, my hands are sweating right now as I write this, about to hit the 'Post' button. I _used_ to reply to every comment (unless it was an anti just dropping by to insult me), but a couple of chapters ago I decided to choose well what to reply to. Not only because engaging in multiple comment sections takes up a lot of time, but also because **my goal is to gather feedback **to improve as a writer**, **not toprove the readers ‘I’m right and you’re wrong’. 
> 
> Now, I _know_ certain negative feedback can be useful. Some comments in the early chapters made me realize that I needed to change some things, which I did change. That’s why I have a document where I copy and paste even the comments that I don’t approve. _I swear_. This way I can read them closely and see if there’s something to be improved. That’s also why I’m opening a Google Form (which you’ll find in the last chapter) to gather even more feedback. My goal is to gather different views, not to get you to think like me. But I PROMISE I will read every comment.
> 
> I’m also adding a FAQ section at the end of the fic and you can check if a question you wanna ask is there. The thing is, when someone asks something and I reply, multiple people start retorting to what I said. Replying to everyone takes up a lot of time (bc I like to reply detailed comments). And if multiple people ask the same questions in different chapters, I end up having the same conversation in different comment sections. It takes up a lot of time. Also, if at some point you have insulted me, I won’t reply to any comment of yours again.
> 
> _Please_, don’t take this personally. If anything, I’m super grateful to you guys, even if we have had an argument at some point. I know that if you have complained about something in this story it’s bc you care about it. I can see that many of you have analyzed the story deeply and that is so flattering, thank you. I know what it’s like to care about a story a lot. Thank you for caring about these Jon and Dany with me. I love these two, too.
> 
> Just sit back and enjoy the last chapter, and pleeeease I want to enjoy this too :)
> 
> Thank you. 
> 
> Long live King Jon and Queen Daenerys.
> 
> Long may they live in our hearts and in our fan fictions.


	17. Meraki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A blazing fire makes flame and brightness out of everything that is thrown into it.”  
—Marcus Aurelius  
  
“The past is still the past—the bridge to nowhere.”  
—Sufjan Stevens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I HAVE JUST POSTED THREE CHAPTERS: CHAPTER 16, 17, AND 18. MAKE SURE TO READ THE THREE OF THEM! (Chapter 18 actually isn’t a chapter, it’s just a message).

_Sunset over Ischia (1873) _by Ivan Aivazovsky

* * *

** DANY  **

Five years went by.

“Welcome, Dany, we hadn’t seen you here in a while,” the moderator of the support group said.

“Thank you for having me. This is my mother, Rhaella.”

She only recognized a couple of people in the group. From the ones that were here now, a bunch of them had left their abusive partners, who were now abusive exes. They were filing restraining orders against them. They stalked them, made up lies about them, or wanted to take the kids from them.

She remembered when she used to come over years ago. There were people who didn’t consider Daario an abuser. So now she wanted to help out people who might be as confused as she had been. Now that she was doing well, that she had endured and freed herself from that situation, she knew she couldn’t keep this knowledge to herself only. Rhaella thought the same.

There was a moment when a woman in her twenties said she needed advice.

“I met a guy,” she started, “he’s great. I… I know it sounds awful but I want to cheat on my husband. I can’t just divorce him, it’s not that easy. I don't know what to do.”

Dany glanced at Rhaella. _Should I talk? _she asked her with her gaze. Her mother gave her a tiny smile.

She didn’t want to say ‘do it’ or ‘don’t do it’. After all, she wouldn’t take back her affair with Jon. But she didn't want to encourage her to cheat, either. Not only could it be dangerous as her husband was abusive, but she didn’t want others to see _her _as a cheater, a secret she had kept so well all these years.

“You shouldn’t cheat,” one person said.

“You shouldn’t cheat on him,” another person repeated. “Even if he’s abusive. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

Dany rubbed her damp hands down her thighs before saying, “Every choice is a risk,” a black hair on Daario’s pillows, a piece of Jon’s clothes forgotten in the bedroom, the kids seeing him, “and if he finds out, who knows what he’ll do to you? A… _friend_ of mine cheated on her husband. She told me that she was paranoid about him finding out, all day every day. But even if he never finds out… maybe you’ll even feel bad about yourself, guilty or immoral, all the time. Do the benefits outweigh the costs? Only you can know. But if you leave him, you’ll be free to do whatever you want, to date whoever you want, without any drop of guilt. Do you have children?”

“No,” she replied.

“Then it’s less difficult to leave. Focus on your freedom first, on dating second.”

They left the building and before they parted their ways, Dany asked Rhaella, “What do you think about what I said to that woman?”

Rhaella looked around and Dany did too, making sure no one was listening.

“When you told me what you were doing, I told you you were only creating more problems for yourself. But I never told you again my opinions about it because… I really don’t know what to say. And I’ve always, all your life, told you what to do, or my opinions about what you do. But in this case, even though I want you to be safe and you were entering into dangerous territory, another part of myself knew that if I had had the opportunity to do what you did…” she looked around again and lowered her voice to say, “I would have probably done it. I would have taken a break from being beaten up in my house. I would have taken a break from getting raped. And I know that being with Jon wasn’t just_ taking a break_ for you. It was much more than that. What you and Jon have, I know it’s very special. I don’t know if what you did was good or bad, but I _understand_ it.” She sighed. “But I don’t think ‘Go on, cheat, lie’ is the kind of advice a mother should give her daughter. Could you tell that to Visenya?”

“I don’t think so, but then again… I would have to know more about what’s going on for me to give her advice.”

“Yes, it's difficult to know all the details. In the end, I would leave it up to you to make that choice. Just like you did with that woman. You didn’t tell her what to do but you gave her a heads-up of what the situation could be like so she can make her mind about it.”

They said goodbye with a hug, and as Rhaella closed her arms around Dany’s shoulders, she told her, “Despite your mistakes, I am proud of you.”

Dany told herself the same words.

* * *

She had left her job at the shopping mall and now worked part-time as an assistant to an exhibition designer in a museum. Her Ocean Series—a series of her favorite paintings of the sea—was in a gallery. Every time she finished a painting, she shared pictures of it on her social media, where she was gaining more followers. Some pictures of her paintings had even appeared in a couple of magazines the previous year. She also had a website where she had for sale not only her paintings, but also prints and postcards of them. She kept on doing workshops on Saturday mornings, and sometimes during sunsets too. And everytime she met a new person, she handed them her business card. _How could she have ever felt embarrassed to promote her work? _She asked herself. It really had been another life.

She opened her laptop to use some pictures and videos of the sea as a reference. Visenya had shared with her some videos she filmed while she surfed that morning so Dany could study the colors, lighting, and shading of the waves. When she tried to download them, though, a message popped on her screen: ‘Disk almost full’.

She clicked on the message and a list of the files that took up the most space showed up. Among them was a three-hour-long audio file. She knew what it was. She had never replayed it nor shown it to anyone else, but for some reason, she wanted to listen to it again. It was a strange feeling, she wanted to relive the rage and desperation she had felt at that moment. Maybe, that way, she could justify treating Daario coldly or even hurting him, which she sometimes had the urge to do. She remembered some words, she remembered her cries and his cries, the race to pick up the kids first… Her finger stayed still over the mouse. One last peek at the past?

She took a deep breath and deleted the file. She put on her apron and set up a canvas on the easel.

* * *

“Where did you put the ham?!” Daemon asked Visenya. His voice woke Dany up. She groaned and turned in bed, bumping into Jon’s back. She placed an arm across his waist, pressed her chest against his back, and fell asleep again.

But not for long.

“Hurry up!” Visenya commanded Daemon.

She and Jon groaned. The kids’ loud voices fought against her sleepiness, so she just sighed loudly, giving up her attempts to fall back asleep.

Jon chuckled. “Good morning.”

“Hey,” Dany said quietly, placing a kiss on the nape of his neck.

She slid her hand under his briefs, reaching his cock and cupping it.

“I’m still sleepy,” he whispered, scratching her wrist softly.

“I’m not doing anything,” she whispered back.

Sometimes she just liked to hold it and not do anything else, just like he liked to rest a hand on her breast or on her cunt.

The kids knocked on the door. It was locked, so they didn’t bother to move.

“Bye mum, bye Jon,” they said.

“Bye guys, have a good day!” she said.

“Take care!” Jon said.

“Hurry up!” Visenya said, and they left the flat.

When the door shut close, Jon exhaled and said, “Finally.”

After a few moments, she brushed her fingertips slowly up and down his cock, waiting for his response.

“Should I go on?” she said quietly, caressing its tip in circles with her thumb.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. She closed her hand around it and stroked it up and down. He lowered his briefs and she pulled it out. She kissed his head, his neck, and his ear. He turned to lie down on his back. He scratched her head slowly, and soon he started moaning.

She loved having a sex life where she started the act, instead of giving in. She loved waiting eagerly for them to be alone so they could touch each other, moan freely, and bump the bed frame against the wall without caring about being heard. She loved getting eaten out and she loved eating him out too because she loved to see him so immersed in his pleasure. She loved being forty-three and horny. They didn’t have the same energy as they did ten or twenty years ago, but they knew how to spice things up.

* * *

She knew something was up when each day that passed he spoke fewer words than the previous one, when each day that passed he ate less than the previous one. And when she woke up in the middle of the night and found him in a fetal position, crying with his back to her, she knew some tough weeks were ahead.

“Hey,” she turned in bed, hugging him from behind. “Anything you wanna get off your chest?”

He sniffed and said, “So many things I regret. So many things I hate about myself. So many things I…” He cried harder.

She caressed his hair and kissed his cheek. “We all dislike some things about ourselves, we all have regrets. Be as gentle with yourself as you are with me when you give me advice.” She kissed his ear. He stayed silent. “Can you go to work tomorrow?”

“Gotta call in sick, I think.”

“Okay, do so. But don’t be scared. You’ve got this. You’ve overcome this many times, you can do it again.”

“What if this time I can’t?”

“You will. But you know what you gotta do: therapy and exercise. I’ll do it with you. We’ll watch a youtube work-out video and we’ll have fun.”

“I can’t have fun. No matter what I do.”

“We’ll _try_ to have fun, then.”

He held her hand against his chest. “Don’t let the kids see me like this tomorrow, please.”

“I’ll tell them you’re sick and they shouldn’t bother you. Migraine. Is that okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The following morning, before she left for work she reminded him to book an appointment with his therapist.

She kissed his forehead and said, “Go on with your routine. Take a shower. Water your plants. Go for a walk, feel the sun on your skin. We’ll have a talk every night about different topics, anything you want, except depression.”

“I don’t wanna move,” he complained.

“I know. But you know that the only way out is through.”

He nodded silently. She kissed his nose, his cheek, and his lips. Inches away from his face, she whispered, “I love you. Remember when you told me you’re glad you’re alive? I always remember.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“This too shall pass,” she said. “You’ve got this. See you later.”

* * *

**JON **

In his worst episodes, when he was in his early twenties, his lack of appetite barely let him eat. But he fought against it by constantly creating new dishes, which connected him to his senses like no other activity. So now he spent the weekend making new recipes, something he hadn’t done in a while.

His eyes saw different colors: with the green basil, the yellow cheese, or the red tomatoes. His hands held different textures: salt, meat, or bones. Into his nose flew up the scent of fish, onion, or curry. Into his ears arrived the sound of the oil jumping in the frying pan or of the knife hitting the cutting board. And finally, his tongue welcomed a newly created flavor.

Dany was painting in her studio, he knocked on the door and made her try a cracker with blue cheese, honey, grape, and arugula.

She grimaced. “I don’t like blue cheese!”

“Sorry,” he said and let out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You made a funny face.”

She sighed. “If that would make you laugh again, I would eat the entire blue cheese.”

He smiled. He guessed it was the first time he had laughed in a while.

“I’ll get you something else for the flavor to pass,” he said.

After some changes in his medication and following therapy weekly, he was adjusting to his normal life again.

One afternoon, Visenya walked into the kitchen at the restaurant.

“Hey,” he said. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Last minute plans,” she said. “I came here with my friends. Every Friday after school we’ll eat in a different restaurant, and we’re starting with the best one, obviously.”

“Great,” he smiled. “You guys can pay the price at cost.”

“No way,” Visenya said.

“Come on, I’m your stepdad,” Jon said.

“Jon, everyone at that table has a high purchasing power. Stop giving so many discounts.”

He went with her to her table, her friends were all eating.

“Everything okay?” Jon asked her friends. “With the food, with the service?”

“Everything’s perfect,” a boy replied. “Thank you. We love coming over.”

Visenya said, “Guys, take a picture of your dish, upload it on your social media, and tag the restaurant.”

Jon blushed, “Oh, you don’t have to.”

“Of course we will,” said her friends.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Love your mum's paintings,” one girl told Visenya. “There’s so many of them.”

“There’s even more at our place,” Jon said.

“I’d love to see them!” she replied. Their others agreed.

Jon glanced at Visenya, who forced a smile. She still had never invited her friends over.

“Okay,” she said. “Whenever you want. Maybe next week.”

“Perfect!” Jon replied, pretending he wasn’t surprised. “Come over on a Thursday and we’ll cook something delicious.”

Visenya smiled at him.

* * *

Visenya wasn’t the only nervous one. Jon also felt funny about having five rich kids entering their small flat, but none of them batted an eye. They had dinner together, talked for hours, and laughed. He forgot for a while about his sorrows.

When it got late, Dany insisted on dropping off a couple of them at their places. When she went into the bedroom to get her car keys, Jon asked her, “By the way, have you told Visenya anything… about… my depression?”

Dany shook her head. “Just that you’ve been having migraines. Why?”

He shrugged. “I think she’s been trying to help me out.”

Dany smiled. “She's smart. Maybe she’s noticed something was kind of off with you. You’re feeling better, aren’t you?” Jon nodded with a smile. “I can see it in your eyes.”

They left, and Jon was left alone with Daemon. He was about to sit in the living room to watch TV when he noticed Daemon sitting on his own in the balcony. He served two glasses of lemonade and walked outside.

“Can I join you?” Jon asked.

Daemon nodded and Jon sat on the chair at the other side of the small, round table, placing a glass close to him.

“Thank you,” Daemon said, but his eyes were fixed on his phone screen. He locked it and sighed.

“You okay?” Jon asked.

“Yeah,” Daemon said.

He didn’t say anything further, so Jon just took a sip of his lemonade and looked at the few stars in the sky.

“No, actually, I don’t know what to do,” Daemon said. “I have a crush on a girl… but she’s so cutting with me. She barely texts back, and when she does, she doesn’t write more than like two words.”

“Well,” he replied in a casual tone, pretending he wasn’t surprised about Daemon talking to him about girls, “don’t insist, then.”

“She’s amazing. I can’t just give up. What if she’s… the one?”

Jon shook his head. “If you have to force love out of someone, they’re not _the one. _Are you guys friends?”

“Not really, no.”

“So you don’t know each other that well.”

“Not _that _well, but—”

_“_Keep in mind that you should like someone, not the image you have of them in your head. When you have a crush you daydream a lot about them, picture different scenarios in your head where she’s amazing and maybe, in reality, she’s just an alright human being and you’re idolizing her.”

“I don’t know.” Daemon scratched his head. “But it’s frustrating.”

“Don’t let this get to you. You can be just fine without a girlfriend. No one needs anyone, Daemon.”

“I don’t like feeling lonely.”

Jon looked down at his glass in his hands, smiling sadly to himself. “But you’re not really lonely, are you? You have us. You have your friends. You have your dad. Is having a girlfriend the only way not to be lonely?” Daemon stayed silent. “It took me more than thirty years to be with a woman worth a million dollars. I’ve been okay while being alone. And I’ve been rejected multiple times. Wasn’t the end of the world.”

Daemon chuckled. “I hope I don’t have to wait till my thirties.”

Jon laughed. “There’s more to life, anyway.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Why didn’t you approach your dad about this?”

“He’s not gonna get it. He’s always talking to women, I’ve seen his phone. And he’s probably just gonna tell me to work out and eat more.”

“Yeah, he might say that,” Jon joked, half-joking and half-serious. "Just don’t look at your dad’s phone. Imagine if he did that with yours.” Daemon nodded. “Thanks for telling me,” Jon went on. “You know, another thing I learned with time is that sharing your feelings is usually seen as weak… I think it takes a lot of strength to do it.”

“Yes.”

“Repressing stuff makes you aggressive, in the end.”

“Like my dad used to be,” Daemon said. Jon’s eyes widened but he said nothing. “You met him after the divorce but I guess my mum's told you he was sort of an asshole when they were married.”

“I… know a little bit,” he lied.

“I only remember a couple of things, to be honest. I was too little. But Visenya knew more and always told me about it when we were growing up.”

Jon didn’t know what to reply, so he only said, “And how do you feel about it?”

“I used to feel sad for him. My mum always said it had been mutual but he always told us she had left him. I guess she made a good call. Can’t stand to see her cry.”

“Neither can I.”

“I love my dad, but sometimes I wonder if I _should _love him. I know I sound like a horrible person. I mean Visenya loves him, even though she knows about so many things he did or said that were wrong. She says that that’s not him anymore, that her therapist helped her forgive him. But if the things that she says are real… sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t love my dad. I love my mum more than anyone else, so is it wrong to love someone who hurt her?”

Jon sighed. Was he the right person to answer these questions?

“What did Visenya tell you?”

“That he used to insult her, called her a... _bitch_... and stuff like that. And he used to shout… like… _really bad. That _I remember. She says one time he threw something at her but missed. I don’t know how many times it must have happened. I always wondered if he hit her. Always. Sometimes I want to ask him what his problem was. And I _really_ want to know if he ever hit her.” Jon cleared his throat, looking at the ground. “I know this isn’t about you and maybe you don’t want to say anything about this but… I feel bad about it. Haven’t told anyone, really. Visenya and I don’t talk about this anymore, we haven’t done so in years. We sort of pretend we’ve forgotten it.”

“You’re right. This isn’t about me and I probably shouldn’t talk about it… but this may help you sleep at night: he didn’t hit her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“My mum told you that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure she isn’t lying to you?”

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “Take a deep breath. Stop thinking about scenarios that you don’t know and that you will never know what happened. If you really have so many questions in your mind, maybe one day you could sit down with him and to talk about it.”

“Don’t think he’ll want to.”

“Who knows? Maybe he wants you to learn from his mistakes. But I would advise you to wait a bunch of years for you to be older, that way he’ll be more open to talking about it. Maybe you could even ask your mum about it.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t believe her much. She always said everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. Don’t think she’ll tell me all the details.”

“But why do you even want to know all the details? Your dad has always been good to you.”

“But should I judge people only on the way that they treat me?”

He wanted to reply, ‘Yes, your dad was an asshole,’ but instead said, “Leave the past behind.”

“Can you just tell me if he made her suffer too much? Did she cry about it? Does she still cry about it?”

“I won’t tell you whatever happened between them. It must come from his or her mouth. But, hey, your mother is the strongest person I know. She can endure anything. If I were you, I wouldn't worry much about her.”

“But shouldn't I at least say something to my dad for treating my mum badly?”

‘Believe me, I’ve wanted to do that for years,’ Jon wanted to say, but instead, only said, “She doesn't need anyone to avenge her. She found peace, and I think you should, too.”

Jon actually had no idea if Daemon should or should not love Daario, but he loved Daemon and didn’t want him to suffer all his life because of the past. After all, Jon and Dany also had their past secrets, and he’d rather Daemon not know.

Was his relationship with the kids built on a lie? He wished he could tell them the truth and that they would love him anyway. He wished they could understand the pain their mother was going through and how she decided she wouldn’t say no to a loving relationship because she was tied to a man like Daario, but he knew that would probably not be the case. That affair would be a memory that would only live in his and Dany’s mind, only pronounced when they were home alone, cuddling together, whispering to each other how funny it had been when he used to sneak into the house at night.

“You two get along,” Jon went on, “you have a lot in common. The good things, at least. Enjoy your time with him, you never know how much time you’ll have together. My dad died when I was in my twenties.”

“I’m sorry,” Daemon said.

“It’s okay,” Jon said, unable to ignore the stinging pain in his chest that the memory of his father’s death always brought. To change the subject, he said, “Can’t believe Visenya finally invited her friends over.”

“I never thought she would,” Daemon laughed.

Jon smiled. “You know, in two years we’ll be able to have a convo like this but with a beer in hand, that will be much more fun.” Daemon laughed again. “I know you drink sometimes, but I’m still not gonna give you anything till it's legal.”

“Wha—why do you say so?”

“You smell like alcohol when you get back home some nights.”

Daemon’s mouth was open, no words came out. “Do—don’t tell my mum.”

“She’s not stupid, she knows.”

“And you guys haven’t told me anything about it?”

Jon chuckled. “We will someday, when you come back home. Be prepared. Cause she’s not happy about it. And don’t you dare lie to her, she’s smart. You know how much she values honesty.” He felt uneasy every time he talked about honesty.

“I know.” Daemon stood up and looked down the balcony. “They’re arriving. Okay, let’s go. _Pleaase_ don’t tell mum.”

“I already told you, she knows.”

“No I mean, the stuff about wanting a girlfriend, and all those things I said about my dad.”

“Okay. I won’t. I promise.”

Jon stood up in front of him. Daemon was almost his size now.

“Gods, how have you grown up so quickly?”

Daemon smiled and hugged him. “You know, it’s cool to have someone so close to you who you love that isn’t your blood, you know?”

Jon almost teared up and closed his arms around his back. Daemon hadn’t told him he loved him since he was little.

“I love you too, mate,” Jon replied.

It’s not that he came second for the kids, after Daario and Dany. He just had a different, new role in their lives: an adult who could guide them, love them, and wasn’t a parent (he was actually freer than a parent) but was also family. He loved that. He wasn’t replacing Daario at home, Daario hadn’t left a missing piece that Jon had to fill—Dany was perfectly capable of raising her kids on her own. He was her life companion. Maybe they did kind of see him as a dad. It was fine by him, either way.

“You’re a great guy,” Jon told him. “Don’t try to make yourself likable, just try to always be a better person. Someone will come along the way, and if no one does, who gives a shit?”

Daemon laughed.

* * *

** DANY **

Later that night, Dany washed her face in the bathroom while Jon lay in bed, using his phone.

“So I was driving this girl home,” Dany said, “and she starts asking about us: ‘How long have you guys been dating?’ And I said, ‘eight years.’ ‘How long have you been living together?’ ‘Six years.’ ‘And you don’t want to have a baby together’?” Dany rolled her eyes.

Jon chuckled. “So nosey.”

“And Visenya said, ‘_please no, don’t give her ideas. I would end up being a nanny_’.”

Jon said, “If we had a cent for every time someone has asked us that question in the past six years… we’d have more money than your ex.”

Dany laughed. “People are obsessed with that question, aren’t they? And they ask it more often to me than to you. I’m tired of women being viewed as these innately loving and maternal beings who can pop out as many children as possible and be happy with all of them, even if it’s a setback to their lives.”

“Yeah, there’s much more to life besides a partner and children, and there’s much more to relationships besides being parents together, and we’ll never be satisfied if we always feel like we need more: more time, more money, more prestige. I liked my life… until you walked in—again. Since then, there was so much more to wish for. We met, we wanted to keep on talking, so we exchanged phone numbers. Then, we wanted to kiss, that day at the beach. Then, we wanted to make love. Then, we wanted to have a relationship, to see and talk to each other all the time, but in secret. Then, we wanted an official and public relationship. Then, we wanted to live together. We’re here. We did it. I honestly have the life I wanted. Should we have kids just to climb another step in a ladder of achievements in our relationship? It’s a great one, honestly, better than my friends’ relationships, and it’s funny because it started as an—” he whispered, “_affair_.”

She got into bed with him and placed a hand under his t-shirt, on his stomach.

She said, “Do we even need kids to be ‘fulfilled’? Aren’t we fulfilled as we are now?” He caressed her hair as she placed her forehead against his neck. “I’m happy to hear you have the life you wanted. I always worry that you might feel different or left out because you’ve arrived later to the family.”

“Don’t worry about me. I'm alright. To be honest, this is a win-win situation. I can’t raise a kid but Daemon and Visenya are _kind of_ my kids, so I sort of have the experience of being a dad. And you three are good company. And on your side, you don’t need me, but you have me here and I’m good company too. I hope,” he joked.

She laughed. “You’re the best companion I could have.” He rubbed her shoulder as she snuggled closer to him. “I never told you this because it’s a little obvious and silly but… thanks for talking to me that day at the supermarket.”

He snickered. “And I never told you this but… I almost didn’t talk to you.”

“What?” She raised her head to look at him.

“I saw you… I saw your face and I couldn’t believe my eyes. At first I thought it was just a woman who looked a lot like you but then I realized it was obviously you. But then I saw two kids by your side and it felt like a cold bucket of water had been thrown over me. _Shit,_” he sighed. “I wished they weren’t yours. I hoped that you were like… their nanny or something.” She laughed and he did so too. “Sorry, it might sound so awful to hear that the first time I saw Daemon and Visenya I hoped they didn’t exist, I hoped it was all a nightmare... and I would have never thought I would end up loving them so much. Now I’m glad they exist,” he chuckled. “Now I’m happy they’re here on this Earth and that they’re a part of my life. Life… is weird and unpredictable and ruthless and kind… I don’t know what to make of it. So I thought for a second I shouldn’t talk to you. You had your path, I had mine… perhaps meeting again would only bring pain. It did bring pain. But not only.”

She smiled sadly at him. “That day, I got home and I cried _so much_.”

“I cried too.”

She softly pushed his opposite cheek for him to face her. Their lips met in a gentle kiss.

“I’m glad we didn’t leave each other’s sides again,” she said.

“Did we ever, really?”

She smiled and pressed a tiny kiss on his cheek.

And another day ended.

_Mars and Venus, Allegory of Peace _by Louis-Jean-François Lagrenée

* * *

Daemon had invited four friends to Daario’s house in the country for his birthday. Jon, Dany, and Visenya were there too. They had swum in the pool and were eating barbecue and cake. Jon, Dany, and Daario sat together in the living room and tried to make small talk. Dany wanted to leave and was sure Jon too. If he was around she was either bored or annoyed, but the hatred that used to burn inside her like boiling water had evaporated and left her body. She cared little about his life now, as long as whatever he did didn’t impact her children.

Daemon and his friends sat in the dining room to eat cake. Visenya ate while using her phone, occasionally replying to them.

“So where are you guys gonna travel to for the holidays next month?” one of their friends asked him and Visenya.

“Yeah, where should we go?” Daario asked the kids, getting up from the couch and sitting at the table with them.

“Let’s go to Rome,” Daemon told Daario with a grin, a huge fan of Roman History.

“We’ve already been there,” said Visenya

“Well,” said Daario, “we haven’t been to Constantinople. I’m sure Istanbul is amazing.”

“No. Let's go to Disneyland,” said Visenya.

“What?” said Daemon. “No. So basic.”

“You’re such a buzzkill, you can learn about Constantinople reading a book. You can only experience the rollercoasters when you’re there. _And _we would go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.”

“Damn, I really wanna go there,” Daemon said. “I don’t know.”

“Dad, you like adrenaline too,” Visenya said. “Let’s go to Disneyland.”

“Okay, you know what?” said Daario. “You two have homework for next weekend. You’ll prepare the budgets for both trips and the entire travel itinerary. You can contact an agency to help you out. Plane tickets too. Also, check the best time of the year to go. If the weather’s not the best next month, or if it’s too crowded, then we’re not going. And don’t you dare tamper the numbers.”

Dany whispered to Jon, “Let’s go to the table.” He grimaced. "It's my son's birthday, I don’t want to just be sitting on a side.”

They had to sit next to Daario at the table. He was his usual charismatic self as he talked about history to Daemon and his friends, all of them top students of their class.

“And just like Alexander the Great,” Daario said, “Trajan was also poisoned in Babilonia. They also were the only ones who crossed the Euphrates and conquered the Arabian peninsula. They also came to control the silk route.”

“But Trajan was a much better emperor,” Daemon said.

“No, Alexander was better,” Daario said. “Trajan admired Alexander, he wanted to be like him. Alexander founded seventy cities, spread the Hellenistic culture, and was a pupil of Aristotle himself. He unified Greece. The Roman Empire was already consolidated when Trajan became emperor. His job was easier.”

“Okay, but there’s a difference between being an emperor and a conqueror. You’re praising Alexander for his conquering abilities, not his ruling abilities.”

Daario looked at Dany. “What an intelligent kid.”

“Sounds like he could be a historian,” she said with a smile. Daemon had hinted to her he wanted to be one when he grew up. “Wha—what—” Daario stuttered. “A historian? I mean, you could still learn about history in your free time, you don’t _need _to take that major. If you,” he looked at Daemon and Visenya back and forth, “decide to study something related to finance, business, economics… I can get you a job in some of the most prestigious companies…”

Visenya rolled her eyes. Daemon looked down to the ground. Dany bit her tongue. She wanted them to study whatever they wanted to, but would rather tell them that when Daario wasn't around.

Jon and Dany said goodbye to the kids while they were playing video games. She leaned down to kiss them both on the cheek, which resulted in them complaining because she didn’t let them see the screen.

“Have a nice weekend,” she told them.

“You too,” said Daemon.

“You too,” repeated Visenya.

When she and Jon were getting in the car, she realized she had left her jacket in the living room and went back into the house. She got it but before she could leave, Daario stopped her at the door. Dany made a hand sign for Jon to wait. Daario took out of his wallet a business card and handed it to her.

“This interior designer works with one of the biggest construction companies in the country. They’re doing some projects with the bank. They’re making this huge building for offices. On the common areas of every floor, they’ll need some paintings.”

“Have they been more specific?”

“They want landscapes or abstract paintings. They just don’t want people.”

“Perfect.”

“She’s waiting for your call. I told her I’d give you her number and you’ll think about it, because you’re probably _so _busy and have so many works on queue.” She chuckled. “The CEO knows about you, too. So I don’t think they’ll tell you no.”

“Thank you,” she said seriously.

“Well, when you’re good, my kids are good.” She knew, though, that he was trying to make amends to her specifically. “And it’s a construction company, which means that after this project they’ll build more and will need more art. And the economy is booming. Whenever the economy is booming, so is real estate…usually.”

“Okay, great. What did they tell you when you said you were recommending your ex-wife’s work?”

He laughed. “I said it was the work of a friend.”

She didn’t consider him her friend and didn’t think he considered her his friend, either, but smiled anyway.

“Well,” she turned around to look at Jon in the car. “I’ll get going. Thank you,” she said again. As she got into the car she told him, “Don’t spoil them too much!”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that!” he joked.

Jon waved at him before starting the car and leaving.

“It seems like we’ll have a couple of weeks for ourselves soon, then,” Jon said with a smile.

“Yes,” Dany said. “I’m glad they can travel often.”

“Good for them. We can’t afford a trip like that,” Jon said. “Life’s good when you have money.”

“Not necessarily.” She held his hand. Their life was better.

As they drove on the highway, the sun started setting above some hills. They parked the car next to the tarmac in the sand to watch it.

“You wanna get out?” he asked.

“Sure.”

When she opened the door, the wind hit her harshly so she zipped up her jacket. They sat on the car’s bonnet and he placed his arm around her shoulders. She took a picture of the scenery with her phone before hugging his torso. It felt like the wind could knock them over, but they remained steady in their embrace.

“There’s a trip we can afford, by the way, just you and me,” she said.

“Where?”

“White Harbor. What do you say? We could go for our anniversary.”

Jon chuckled. “There’s nothing to do in that city. So boring. So small. So dull.”

“It’s been almost twenty years. I’m sure there must be _something _new.”

“I hope all the restaurants and cafés where we used to go still exist.”

“Yes! And we should go to the building where we lived. See it from the outside, at least. Let’s see who lives in our flat now. Let’s spy on them from the corner of the street.”

Jon chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”

“We would go back as completely different people,” she thought out loud.

“Twenty years later,” he said. “How different will we be twenty years from now?”

“We’ll have grey hair.”

He rumpled his own hair. “I already have a few grey hairs here and there.”

They had thirty, maybe forty years ahead of them. Life came with good and bad surprises, like Jon appearing at the same supermarket as her. Anything could happen. That made life terrifying and beautiful. It was always changing and flowing, just like water in a lake, sea, river, waterfall, hose, or vase. There was not one single way to be. Sometimes life felt stuck, but there was always a way through which it could flow. They weren’t in front of the sea now, just in front of some hills, but water was in the air and in their bodies. She only needed to allow herself to bend and yield and change, and life could go on.

She asked him, “Do you think the best years of our lives are behind us? Or in front of us?”

He hummed in thought. “We had a great time when we were young. We used to spend more time together.”

“But why couldn’t the future be even better? We’ll retire and spend more time together.”

“Yeah, how will we spend those years? When we’re super old, without energy, when my dick doesn’t work anymore…”

“Well, that would be a pity, but we will have time for everything we want to do. I’ll paint a lot, I’ll be in like poetry workshops and all that, we could move to a house with a garden, you’ll have a lot of time for gardening and cooking. We’ll go to the beach for a daily stroll. What else?”

“We’ll go to art galleries, to museums, and we’ll pay a smaller fee for being elders! And once I don’t have the energy and physique to work in the kitchen anymore, I want to be a food critic. We’ll go to a lot of restaurants and enjoy new flavors.”

“I’m on board.” She rested her head against the side of his face. “Actually, we will have more time quite soon. The kids will finish school and leave home. What if…” she snickered, “we had a baby? Just throwing it out there.”

He let out a tiny laugh. “After all our talks about not having a baby?”

“But we haven’t talked yet about our life when we live by ourselves, which, again, will be soon.”

“And my busy work schedule?”

“I don't know, it was just an idea… if you could somehow manage your time.”

Jon stayed silent. Maybe it had been foolish to say that, she thought. But he said, “I’ll think about it. I had already made up my mind about that, but I’ll consider it.” He kissed her head. “I guess nothing’s ever set in stone, right?”

“Yeah, but we’re running out of time so… don’t take too long in making a decision.”

“Okay,” he said with a grin. “But at least give me more than a day, I need to see if my finances are in place.”

“It could be nice. But if it doesn’t happen, the world isn’t gonna end. We’ll age together anyway.” She chuckled and hugged him tighter. “Just like we thought we would, as a painter and as a chef.”

“Only in a different place,” he said, rubbing her shoulder.

She smiled and watched the sky for a while, the sun was almost behind the hills now.

“Everyone fears old age so much. But what’s wrong with the twilight years?” she said.

“Twilights are pretty. And you painters are _obsessed_ with sunsets,” Jon said.

“How could we not be? Not just painters, everyone loves them. There are some beaches in the world where people gather to watch the sunset and when it hides behind the sea, they clap. They’re always so beautiful, so colorful. Even though they’re endings. Or _because_ they’re endings.” She sighed. “These years together have gone by so quickly. In no time we’ll start to wrinkle like withering leaves, and then we’ll die. But isn’t autumn beautiful too? It’s still colorful, but only orange and brown.”

This wasn’t her usual seascape. It was just a couple of brown hills below the orange sky as the sun slowly fell closer to them, but there was beauty to be found in every landscape, there was music to be found in the wind whistling against their ears and even in the roaring of the car engines as they swiftly went by next to them, there was a mixture of colors everywhere, but nowhere was the sky as colorful as when a day was ending. Darkness would follow, but only for some hours. She looked at Jon. More nights, more days, more sunsets and sunrises would follow in their future. Beginnings, endings, pains, and joys. Every day was a new brush stroke that painted their relationship. Some days it was a cool color, others a warm one, others were a knife that scraped the painting from the canvas, others were a resin that made the strokes glow brighter.

The sun hid behind the hills and the sky became even more colorful. Dany clapped. Jon chuckled and clapped too. It wasn’t an extraordinary landscape, but he made her happier, and when she was happier, everything seemed more beautiful. Art was the skill of seeing beauty in everything, in the ordinary, in that which others ignored. So was love. It embellished the small details—the cooking in the modest house, the other’s smile—which one forgot to appreciate with time.

“There’s so much in the world to love, besides a couple blinding problems we may have,” she told him.

Life wasn’t perfect. She remembered what Jon said: there’s always something more to wish for— better paintings, a bigger house, for her boyfriend to spend more time at home than at work. Life would never be as perfect as she pictured it in her mind, but it could still be beautiful. It would probably never be completely satisfactory, but there was a big difference between being unsatisfied and being miserable. She knew now she didn’t have to be miserable. Did they _deserve _this life? _Should_ they hide the truth forever? _Should _they leave the past behind and try to be happy? Those questions were chains that only she could break.

“Let’s get going,” she said. “I can drive. You must be tired.”

“I am,” he said. “Thanks. I just wanna get home and watch a movie.”

“What should we watch?” she asked as they got into the car.

“Anything. Preferably a comedy. Oh, right, there’s nothing to eat for breakfast tomorrow, we have to go buy some stuff.”

“Right. We need cereal, strawberries, peanut butter—”

“Bread, eggs… we're also running out of toothpaste.” He took out his phone and said, “I’ll write it down.”

“Should we stop at the convenience store that’s a couple of kilometers away from here?”

“Nah, let’s get to the city and go to the supermarket. They have fresher fruits and vegetables there.”

“Off we go,” she said.

She turned on the engine and they took off. Their story went on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story goes on, and everything that happens after that ending point is up to each one of you. I have my own scenarios of how I think their life will unfold, but I want you to have yours too. There are endless possibilities!


	18. Thank you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Those are for fools (Epictetus’s word) who think the world is black and white, good versus evil, where it is always possible to clearly tell the good guys from the bad guys. That is not the world we live in, and to pretend otherwise is more than a bit dangerous and not at all wise.” —Massimo Pigliucci 
> 
> "Be like the jutting rock against which waves are constantly crashing, and all around it the frothing foam of the waters then settles back down. “Oh, I am so unfortunate that this has happened to me.” Not at all, but rather “How fortunate I am that, even though this has happened to me, I continue uninjured, neither terrified by the present, nor in fear of the future.”
> 
> —Marcus Aurelius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So, this version of Estranged that you have just read is a first draft, I want to keep on improving it in the next months, just like I did with TBAWY after finishing it. [That’s why I have made a survey on Google Forms that you can fill out anonymously.](https://forms.gle/y6bhxKtEaiKehLJ29) I want to gather all the feedback I can. This fic still has a long way to go when it comes to the craft, I’ve focused mainly on dialogue and not much on setting, description, etc., and English isn't my first language so sometimes when I reread the chapters I find some mistakes. The Google Form only has questions about the content of the story, though. It would be super helpful if you could answer it!

You made it! You finished reading Estranged!

First things first! I want to thank you for sharing this journey with me. Special thanks to those who took some seconds or minutes to write encouraging comments. I’ve ranted a bit about the arguments in the comments and all that, but most of all I am grateful to you guys. You have read +100k words of this. You have been by my _side_, even if it was on the other _side_ of the screen. Our hearts have raised in the same scenes and we may have dropped a tear or two in the same scenes, and that’s so special to me!

I'm happy to have completed this project which I’ve worked hard on for 2 years (started developing the idea in November 2018). I put a lot of effort into it and I’m happy with the outcome. I think I’ve given Jon and Dany the best ending possible, within the limitations that they had. So, to celebrate I 1. went to the beach 2. bought a painting of the sea. It will be a reminder forever of this very special story, of how much I have grown while writing this.

Let me show you where I wrote these last chapters :)

Last year, I left the fandom for a while. I was very depressed after what happened in GOT to Dany and to Jonerys, the OTP I’ve been writing about since 2015. I came back in October. I wanted to cope with my grief by continuing to write a story where she gains her own strength and finds freedom after being abused for years (just like she did in canon), a story where she and Jon go through thick and thin to be together. I want to give her the happy ending she deserves. Both Jon and Dany deserve a happy ending together. That’s what literally all my fics are about.

This is a tough year because of the pandemic and a bunch of other things. My life has changed in many ways and my idea of how my future will be has changed _drastically_, but this fic right here has lifted me up so much. Letting my imagination live on its own has been amazing. I am so happy I started this project two years ago, it has helped me tremendously with my life. This story might be good, mediocre, or bad, but just creating something is so rewarding, and I think we all have the capacity to write, we must be open to try new things. I can’t wait to see all the other things I could do with my life. Five years ago, writing wasn’t a part of my life, now I don’t know what I'd do if I didn’t create stories. I feel so alive when I make fictional characters come to life. I wanna keep writing always.

Art is a haven, a safe place, a healing activity for me--whether it’s writing, music, drawing, or just reading a good book or watching an amazing painting. But sharing what I write with strangers...geez that hasn’t been too ‘healing’. I’ve been almost 6 years on AO3 and it’s started to feel like a burden to share my stuff here. This fic has a lot of subscribers, but just a small bunch of people leave positive comments, while the ones who are always making demands and giving commands are in my inbox all the time. Damn I gotta confess I didn’t even want to post the ending. I don’t approve nor reply to all the comments, so you have no idea what my inbox is like. I didn’t want to come back to this arena. There’s nothing worse than putting your heart and soul into something, dedicating many hours a week to it, sharing it online, and just hearing a small number of “thank you for sharing”s and a shitload of “how could you”s. Why do I keep on posting? I’ve been asking myself this question for _months_. Why do I keep on posting if it makes me more sad and nervous than happy?

These chapters have been ready for like 2 weeks, but I was_ so damn nervous _to share them, even though I think I’ve written the best and “happiest” ending I could have written. I wanted to feel emotionally ready to receive comments about sth that I have put SO much effort into. But then I remembered chapters 12 and 13 of this story, how nervous Dany was before breaking up with Daario. She went for it when she realized she would never _feel _completely ready to do it. I think the anxiety will be present in me if I post the fic now and it will also be present if I post it, idk, next month. I don’t think I’ll ever be completely ready. The moment that I hit the Post button to post the last chapter of TBAWY in 2018, my blood pressure lowered and I had to lay in bed to regain my strength, even though it was a sweet ending and almost impossible to hate lol. But I care _so _much about my stories. I mean, Estranged stresses me out more than my job stresses me out because it's my baby. I love it way too much. I have worked on it for two years.

This month that I’ve been away from AO3 I’ve felt relieved. Less anxiety, less worry. That was when I thought, what if I don’t post the ending on AO3? But I also realized that being comfortable isn’t the best way to live. We gotta take risks, do things that frighten us, that make us anxious, otherwise we wouldn’t have such a boring life. I have a quote in one of my notebooks that says “A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.” Idk who the author is but it’s totally true. Not doing what scares you is comfortable and even “peaceful”, but I’d rather do it and fail than not do anything and then regret my inaction. That is another lesson I learned from Dany here.

I’m not saying writers should only be praised, but think well about what you’re gonna say. I’ve been writing Jonerys fanfics since 2015 and have become friends with multiple writers, and tbh we just want a little empathy. We earn no money nor reputation from this, we’re writing behind an anonymous username to keep alive a ship that we love. Fandoms are supposed to be about community and shared interests, not about fighting, arguing, or bringing each other down.

I don’t know everything. I am a regular person and I am open to learning more. But there’s no reason to be so rude to me. I don’t want to write to please everyone, I want to grab the pan by the handle in my life. Others can accompany me on my journey, but they cannot tell me what to do. I can’t control the way everyone thinks and won’t try to do so. If we disagree, why do some ppl want to argue so much? I don’t know if during their life they’ve gotten what they want by arguing that way, but I choose harmony over proving another person right. I write to light up my life in the midst of my troubles. A little empathy’s all I’m asking!

But I do have to say I am sorry. I could have uploaded this before but didn’t feel strong enough. I know many of you love this story and I’m so happy about that. I told you before this was a tough year for me, well, the past 3 weeks have been the toughest ones of the year. And the past weekend has been HORRIBLE. I have slept like 2 or 3 hours a day, had headaches every day, things around me are just changing so much... so I didn’t want to add another load. I had to put myself first for a while and I know it wasn’t fair to many of you who have been kind, grateful, and respectful, and have always motivated me to go on. I deleted the first chapter of this fic after posting it in May 2019 and receiving hate, and many of you kept on texting me to reupload it, THANK YOU. We’ve never seen each other's faces but the warmth in simple texts or comments is real. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have reuploaded this fic in October 2019.

I swear you guys have been in my mind. I never forget a name (nor a face… I have a really good memory lol) so I remember with much tenderness the usernames of all of you who have been kind to me these past years, even in my other fanfics. To Be Alone With You started off as a one-shot, but more and more of you texted me asking me for more, and it ended up having over 40 chapters. That was my beginning as a writer. That’s why I always keep AO3 in my heart--even if I get fed up sometimes--because without the Jonerys community I wouldn’t be a writer. I even write for a magazine now in my native language. I want to give back to this community as I have received so much from it. I have made friends, I have belonged to a place of people with shared interests and ideas. Many of my friends in real life watch GOT or have read ASOIAF, but it’s not that important to any of them. So, I felt kinda left out in real life. Finding a community online is something special: we’re from all over the world, with different ages, but there is so much in common between us.

I am not “in the fandom” anymore. This fic is the only contact I have with it. I don’t use any other social media, don’t watch videos about asoiaf or got, don’t read meta nor fanfics, haven’t even watched a scene after got was over… I stepped aside after it ended because it wasn’t what I thought it was. It wasn’t a story about love and light after dark. It was just dark after dark. But when GRRM ends the books, I’ll definitely be back as an active member of the fandom, because I’ve belonged in this community for more than five years and we are the only ones who understand each others’ pain and joys regarding our favorite characters who were robbed a happy (or just a FAIR) ending. I don’t know if Jonerys will have the happy ending they deserve in the books, but I am still hopeful. If they do or they don’t, I know that there’s a group of people online with whom we can either celebrate or mourn (again) together. And that sense of togetherness is important, regardless of our differences, especially in difficult times.

I’m not sure if I’ll post more Jonerys multichapters, maybe if I do I’d post the multichapter once it’s all done instead of sharing it chapter by chapter. I will still post Jonerys one-shots though (I love this ship), and will write more original fiction. If you would like to read any of my future projects, you can drop your email [here.](https://forms.gle/y6bhxKtEaiKehLJ29)

[**[HERE YOU CAN FIND THE FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS.]** ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cOmhlWHYhqOBrls1DBxadTkYKCaWSTSMv0Te06CvnvY/edit?usp=sharing)

I have over 50 questions on my inbox and some of them ask the same things. Check out if you want to ask something that is already there! :) As I said on CH16, I PROMISE I will read every comment, but I can’t promise I’ll reply to all of them (at least not soon). If you have a question that is in this FAQ, I most probably won’t reply to it. Thank you for understanding!

ALSO, I’ll edit this fic to change a few things. Open to hear your opinions about the following topics :)

-I’ll add a quick backstory for Daario showing that he had a difficult childhood (also experienced abuse). I thought I had added this actually, in the first draft of chapter 2 he said his father used to beat him, I don't know why or how I took that out.

-Jon’s role in the fic: I want him to be more active but I still don’t know how.

-As I said on the notes a few chapters ago, I don’t know if Dany should blackmail Daario with the voice recording. I think he would hate her even more because of that and I don’t want them to be at war forever.

** About Estranged: **

“Daenerys had moved on. Or so she’d thought.” These words came into my mind one night and I knew this was going to be the start of a new story. Two exes who went through thick and thin to get back together. Shortly before that, a couple that was very close to me broke up after she cheated on him. I was angry at said woman for cheating on someone so dear to me. But my mom told me, “No one knows what really goes on in other people’s lives, how relationships truly are behind closed doors. Who am I to judge her?” I was sort of pissed at her for saying this but stayed up all night thinking about it. Slowly, this story came to life. To this day I still don’t know how that relationship had truly been, but to be honest, that’s none of my business.

That said, I don’t want to tell you what’s right and wrong, even though I have sometimes argued with a couple of readers to try to achieve that. I have a lot of opinions about J/D’s relationship, about love, etc. but my goal with this story is not to give out answers, only to raise questions. So, I want to share with you the main questions that were in my head ALL THE TIME. I talked about them with so many people and gathered all the viewpoints I could during 2018 and 2019:

-“Should she refrain herself from cheating?”

-“How much unconditional love, care, and fidelity do you owe to someone who treats you like shit and from whom you can’t get away?”

-“Should Daario know? Should he find out? Should the kids know?”

-“Is it selfish for her not to tell the truth? Or is it really better for everyone?”

-“Should she move in with his lover and the kids? Is that an okay thing to do?”

-“Are we all worthy of forgiveness? Dany and Jon? Daario?”

-“Is it wrong that they’re happy after all this? Is it wrong that Daario can be happy after all this?”

-“In which ways can art change your life? In which ways does writing fiction change _my _life?”

If there were other questions that have been in your head while you read the fic, let me know in the comment section!

Now, Jon and Dany aren’t heroes. I think they’re pretty ordinary people. Many ordinary people do things that aren’t virtuous. What I wanted was to explore some reasons behind these actions. In canon, Jon and Dany are loyal people, but they’re grey characters too. They have done some stuff we disapprove of, but grey characters are more realistic. Human beings aren’t entirely good or evil, and life doesn’t present dichotomies where there’s a clearly good choice and a bad choice. Or an easy choice and a difficult choice. We usually have to pick between 2 bad, painful, difficult things. Anyway, I hope you can understand their characters. Like Rhaella said, “I don’t know if what you did was good or bad, but I _understand_ it.”

Damn, I don’t really want to let go of this story. I would love to do a part 2 of Jon and Dany’s life, like a sequel, with new challenges. But I think I’ve told the story I want to tell. In the end, I decided to write a long ending about their life together because 1. I wanted to write more Jonerys scenes and 2. I want to show that life goes on and it will never be perfect. I could have written a full stop when Jon and Dany move in together, as a ‘happy ever after’ sort of ending. But there’s always more to the story after that ‘happy ending’. There will be more to the story after the end scene that I wrote here, too. But I like the idea of being comfortable with realizing that real life will never be perfect. You’ll have wonderful moments: marriage, graduation, the birth of your child, getting that job you wanted so bad, but the rest of your life will still be loaded with challenges. That’s not bad. It just means we can keep on growing forever. Life is tough, but we are stronger than we think. Living with someone you love is obviously a reason for your days to be brighter, but life together will also be a challenge because no relationship is easy, _but_ there’s a big difference between having an imperfect relationship and being in an _abusive_ relationship.

Was the ending predictable? Maybe. But real life is often predictable. Actually, I think a “predictable” scenario was for Daario to find out about J/D and make their life a living hell, which usually happens in affair stories. But in real life most affairs go unnoticed by the other partner. I mean, GOT tried their best not to be predictable, and look how it all turned out.

Honestly, this has been such a huge challenge for me. Huge. I’ve never written angst. Cheating for me was always the worst thing in the world, and here I am, exploring what it feels to be a cheater. I read multiple books about abusive husbands and how to leave them. Many of my friends have helped me out constantly: a friend who is an artist, another one who is a chef, another one who is a psychologist and works with abused women. Some internet friends have helped me out too, and I’m super thankful for that. I’ve put a lot of work into this and it isn’t even over. I’ll keep on working on it!

After editing the fic even more, I’ll send it to those around me. There are many people in my life whom I would like to read this. My boss from work, who is a darling and also a writer, has advised me to edit this and publish it as original fiction, as we live in a country with a lot of violence against women (in general it’s a violent country). Idk, I might consider it. A., if you’re reading this, you’re such an inspiration to me!

Finally, back to the fic, no two people read the same text the same way. I kind of believe in Roland Barthes’ concept of the death of the author. Every reader can have their own meaning of a text and doesn’t have to know the author’s intention about every scene or character. For example, I don’t give a flying fuck about what D&D say about Dany, she is a hero to me. That was my reading of the books and of the show. I don’t want the authorial intent to be authoritative. Believe whatever you want! Create your own meaning and interpretation from this!

Now, besides liking or not this story, I hope you feel like something inside of you has changed. I changed. I would like to know if you feel like you’ve learned something from this, if you look at life differently by having been in Dany’s shoes in such a complicated scenario.

* * *

Finally, a quick note about hurting others, as there are bullies who have been sending me (and other Jonerys writers) insults for over a year.

Hate is a corrosive emotion. Nothing good comes from it. It doesn’t make you stronger. I pity the souls of the Dany antis or the Jonerys antis who have the habit of hurting others day by day. I don’t hate them, I pity them, I feel sorry for them, because no healthy person hurts others. Think about this when someone hurts you. They are suffering, deep down. Of course, if you’re stuck with someone like Daario here, you can’t live to heal them. It isn’t your _responsibility_ to heal them, but it’s liberating to understand that no one wants to be an angry person, anger leaks out of us, unwillingly. No one wants to be a bad guy nor sees themselves as a bad guy in their own eyes. Understanding is not justifying and it helps you move on.

I hope that those who bully me and other Jonerys writers and Dany fans can find peace. Everything in life is better when you are kind. Take care of your thoughts and your actions. Strive to spread goodness and love. You will thank yourself for it.

* * *

I cherish you all for being with me reading this journey of Dany’s healing and growth. Don’t forget we all can and _should_ heal and grow. We should all try every day to improve mentally, emotionally, and physically. There’s no ending point to growth. If you don’t want to do it for yourself, do it for your loved ones, who will have a better partner, friend, child, or parent thanks to our self-care efforts.

**If you want a notification on your email when I upload a new fanfic, subscribe to the author! (not to the fic)**

Super grateful to you for the company, for the advice, for the encouragement. To the readers who have never written a comment, I’m really curious about your thoughts on this. Sometimes those who have never written a comment let it all out when the fic ends and it’s such a pleasant surprise.

Live the life that you want, not what others want for you. You are the protagonist of your own story. Treat everyone around you with kindness. Help those who need it. As I’ve tried to show with this fic, you never know what people are going through behind the curtains.

I wish you all the best in life and love.

Hugs from another fanfic writer :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” —Rumi
> 
> Necessary shoutouts for my inspirations: Buddha, Lao-Tze, Homer, and Henrik Ibsen’s play The Wild Duck. Also, these are a bunch of songs that inspired me, my official Estranged playlist :D
> 
> [How - Regina Spektor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mBfW-CdgLE)
> 
> [Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjpF8ukSrvk)
> 
> [Rejazz - Regina Spektor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoGFQ0AcXmc)
> 
> [Home - Edward Shape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHEOF_rcND8)
> 
> [Love of My Life - Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUJkCXE4sAA)
> 
> [Blackbird - The Beatles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Man4Xw8Xypo)
> 
> [Fearless - Pink Floyd](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3J_2R9rAp8)
> 
> [Sigh No More - Mumford & Sons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YhHM1ybfPI)
> 
> [Extra info about the dangers of wanting to heal abusers.](https://metro.co.uk/2018/09/20/it-is-not-a-womans-responsibility-to-make-a-man-a-better-human-being-7942069/?ito=article.mweb.share.top.whatsapp&fbclid=IwAR1SGcvfoz6mtQ1EKeZs-gZepz-sgKG4NQhZpihQ53wh10OywmeyikJpJz0)
> 
> [Don’t forget to help me out answering some questions (anonymously) on my Google Form :)](https://forms.gle/y6bhxKtEaiKehLJ29)


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